


Raise Your Wands for Revolution!

by RevolutionDeLArt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, tw suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RevolutionDeLArt/pseuds/RevolutionDeLArt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Barricade Boys are off to Hogwarts. Of course, Enjolras and his cohorts (but let's face it mostly Enjolras) are deeply displeased by the ridiculous class system which had become an ingrained part of wizarding society. It's time for a Revolution! But not for like, ten chapters. Let's slow down a little, Enjolras. Apologies for those notes at the beginning where I babble but Hey! I find myself entertaining.<br/>Also: We now have a beta so our story is not over flowing with grammatical errors and lacking in necessary commas. And there are chapter titles. Incredibly pretentious ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Angel Falls

Notes:

_Hallo! You can call me Kes! I'm co-writing this story with my friend. She will write things in bold because I am more sophisticated than she and thus deserve the more graceful form of communication. Anyway, she'll do all the talking in her next chapter, but for now I shall allow her to say hi._

**Hey! I'm the other co-writer of this story, and you can call me MJ. I’ll present myself and my writing style better in the next chapter, but for now, I'll leave you to Kes's writing skills!**

_Thank you, MJ._

_Anyway, some legitimate notes. I called Jean Valjean Jean Fachelevent in this story because everyone knows that Cosette's last name is Fauchelevent (because Fantine was a street girl and never got one. And then Jean Valjean adopted her.) Of course, if we were going by the canon of the book, he would be called Ultime Fauchelevent, but then half the fandom would have no idea who I was talking about and this just seemed easier. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: MJ is a Ravenclaw and in no way endorses my extremely Gryffindor-themed username._

_Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling_

_Les Misérables belongs to Victor Hugo_

_Just in case there was any doubt..._

_-Kes_

            Fantine's child was an angel. She was an angel because Fantine had slept with an angel. That was what he had told her when she had backed away, afraid, after he had filled their room with flowers with a wave of his hand.

            "Don't be afraid. I'm an angel. This is God's will." And then Fantine hadn't been afraid anymore because angels were good, and God was good and she wanted nothing more than to please God. So she smiled shyly, and gave herself wholly to her angel.

            When she awoke the next morning her angel was gone.  He hadn't even said goodbye, but then wasn't God a busy man? Wouldn't he need his angels? Fantine did not begrudge him his short stay, but she wished he had explained to her how she ought to raise his kind, because surely angels needed something special, something more than Fantine could hope to offer. 

            Still, Fantine worked hard for her child. She got a job at a factory, working in an assembly line, building mobile phones, which payed terribly, and a job as a waiter, which paid better but the hours were fewer.  Often, Fantine went out in threadbare rags because she couldn't afford anything new, but she felt a certain vanity on behalf of her angel child. She skimped and saved so that Cosette might always be dressed in the finest of clothing, and every Sunday, she clad her child in her most dainty and charming dresses and took her to church. After all, if Cosette were to one day be part of God's army, she ought to know Him.

            Cosette went to the village public school, and Fantine took a special thrill in seeing her sitting on the bench in front of their flat every evening, working on homework or playing with the flowers. Cosette was a cheerful child, and she had many friends. Sometimes she would be engaged in a terrific game of chase when Fantine arrived home, bedraggled and worn from her day at the factory, but no matter what, Cosette always stopped whatever she was doing at once to run up and kiss her mother on the cheek.

            One evening, in the special hour between Fantine's jobs, mother and daughter were playing tag in the garden in front of their flat when a man appeared. Cosette, intent upon her chase and paying no mind to where she was going, barreled into him headlong.

            "Cosette!" her mother cried, dashing to her and helping her up.  "Are you alright?"

            "I'm ok," Cosette said with childish unconcern.  Her attention had already been diverted to the exciting new man in their midst. His clothes were funny. They reminded Cosette almost of a dress except that they opened in the front. Cosette regarded them with interest while her mother rushed off hurried explanations of apology.

            "I am so sorry, sir. She's an angel, sir, I promise!"

            The man gave Fantine a bemused smile. "I'm certain she is. It's perfectly alright, miss. I don't mind. Children will be children. Even the most well behaved ones must have their little adventures."

            "Oh yes, sir. But I didn't mean that she was well behaved, sir " Fantine explained earnestly, "I meant she was an angel."

            The man raised his eyebrows with polite interest.  "Is she really?" he asked with none of the disdain or confusion that other people's questions held when Fantine tried to explain Cosette to them. No, his tone held only simple curiosity and Fantine loved him for it instantly. "What makes you say that?"

            Fantine's face lit up with excitement. "Well, sir," she began eagerly, "Her father came down from heaven and filled me with child and then he went away again. But Cosette can do angel things too, sir. She used to float when she was little, sir. Sometimes I had to tie her to the cradle by her little ankle so that she wouldn't float away. And sometimes she turns the weeds in our garden into flowers and brings them in for me and sets them in little jars all around the house, because she knows how I like having pretty things to look at when I get home from the factory. She really is a _good girl_ , sir," Fantine finished, casting the man an anxious look, apparently worried he might not be wholly convinced as to her child's inherent goodness. 

            The man seemed rather lost in thought however, for he looked up sharply, apparently caught off guard by the completion of Fantine's speech.  "How rude of me," he announced suddenly, "I haven't told you my name! I'm Jean Fauchelevent, and you are?"

            "Fantine..." the woman replied, her confusion evident.

            "Yes, Fantine," Jean Fauchelevent murmured, "And who is your little angel?"

            "Oh!" Fantine lost her confusion and fell back into the happy tones brought about by a mother's zeal. "Her name is Euphrasie, but I call her Cosette."

            " _Euphrasie_ ," Fauchelevent murmured. "Yes, I believe that's right..."

            "Sir?" Fantine asked. She had pulled her child imperceptibly closer to her and was regarding Jean Fauchelevent with the faintest traces of unease. "I'm sorry, sir, but do I know you?"

            At this, Fauchelevent snapped out of his reverie, turning his attention almost apologetically back to Fantine.  "Ah, no. I've come to talk to you, though. About Cosette. I teach at a school, you see, for children like Cosette."

            "Other angels?" Fantine interrupted.

            Fauchelevent fairly winced as he said, "No, you see, I'm afraid your child is not an angel.  She's-" He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts together before going on, "God has given her magic but- well, she's not in fact, an angel. She's, well, we would call her a witch at our school. We would like her to attend-"

            But Fantine's mind seemed to have caught upon the word "witch" and stuck there.  "What do you mean she's a witch?" she demanded. "My child is not a witch. Witches are unclean. Witches reside with Lucifer! My child is an _angel,_ sir!" Fantine seemed almost feverish now. She fairly shook with outrage. "An _Angel._ "

            Jean Fauchelevent decided it was time to change his approach.  "It will be the best education for your child, Ma'am. And she'll be able to learn how to use her uh... angel powers. Really, it would be the best course of action."

            But Fantine was glaring at him with a look of supreme distrust. "I'm sorry, sir, but I would like you to leave. "

            Cosette, who had been listening to the conversation between her mother and this strange man attentively, decided at last that she ought to speak up.  "Excuse me, sir, " she said, with the politeness her mother had ingrained in her, "But can you do the angel things too, then, sir?"

             "Don't talk to him, Cosette," Fantine hissed, but both the man and her daughter ignored her.

            "Do you mean magic? Why, yes I can. I am myself a wizard--" here Fantine drew back in horror and crossed herself, "--would you like to see?"

            Cosette, much to her mother's chagrin, nodded eagerly.  Fauchelevent smiled and, drawing out a delicate stick made of oak, waved it once.  There was a popping noise and the air around them danced with sparkling fireworks that took the shape of larks and did a dance around Cosette's head.

            Fantine had turned very white.  "Are you- ? Was that-?" but she found herself unable to construct a complete sentence and so snapped her mouth shut and merely stared.

            "Mama," Cosette said carefully, for she was a sharp child and could sense when she was treading on dangerous ground. "I'd like to go to the school, Mama. Do you think... I could?" She looked expectantly at her mother, but Fantine seemed broken beyond repair. Her mouth was moving soundlessly, and she could only stare at her daughter.

            At last, after a long moment of silence that seemed to stretch on infinitely, she spoke, addressing Fauchelevent. "My child will need things for school, yes?"

            "Well, yes," Fachelevent affirmed, encouraged by the line of questioning, and by the fact that Fantine had spoken of her daughter as a child and not an angel. "She would need that. But it's not trouble."

            "Will you take her there?"  Fantine asked fretfully. "To buy these," she sniffed in distaste, "witch things?"

            Jean Fauchelevent looked at her with some confusion. "Don't you want to come?" he asked cautiously.

            Fantine shook her head emphatically. "No. I couldn't do such a thing. I want my child to have the best education for her. But I can't do such a thing. God wouldn't want me to do such a thing."

            "God loves all creatures equally,"  Fauchelevent stated, in an effort to be soothing, but Fantine only shook her head.

            "I can't," was all she said, and Fauchelevent understood. It's hard to change so quickly, when you've believed something for so long. 

            "I shall take good care of her, " he promised, "We'll be back soon."

            "Goodbye, Cosette!" Fantine cried, pulling her close and kissing her hair. "I love you. I'll miss you.  I'm so proud of you."

            "I love you too, Mama," replied Cosette, submitting herself to her mother's coddling with little complaint.

            Jean Fauchelevent took Cosette's hand and led her away gently. Fantine stood in front of their building, waving almost feverishly, with tears streaming silently down her face.  He supposed he should have felt something was off then, a mother alone at the end of a walk, crying as though she would never see her child again. But Fauchelevent had missed it, and it was a fact that he would never forgive himself.

***

            Fantine waited until Cosette and the wizard had disappeared down the walk before turning and hurrying up the stairs into her flat. Once there, she pulled a jar of pills from her top draw and set them on top of the dresser, where she regarded them thoughtfully. 

            Then she abandoned the pills and turned to pacing, back and forth across her flat. She paced for almost an hour, thinking.

            _If he is a wizard, if this gentleman is a wizard, then my angel, he is a wizard too. I have performed unclean acts with a wizard! Oh! I am so unclean!_ and she threw herself onto the bed in an act of horrific despair.

             But in a moment she was back on her feet again and fell once more to pacing. _But what of Cosette?_ she worried. _If I were to do it? What would become of my child?_

            This dilemma gave her pause for a moment, but then she quickly resolved it. _The gentleman will look after her,_ she reassured herself. _He is a good man, that gentleman, even if he is a wizard._ But oh, to think that she had slept with a wizard and not an angel at all! What would God think!? Fantine was again seized with an awful and all consuming self loathing. At last, she came to a conclusion: she must repent the only way she could. Her hand stretched out, reaching for the pill bottle on her dresser. 

***

            The garden was empty when Cosette and Jean Fauchelevent at last returned to the little flat, Cosette chattering happily, her head full of all the exciting things she had seen and done.  "Mama must be inside, " she explained, and taking her new friend by the hand, she lead him up the stairs.

            The door was locked and Fantine would not open it, not matter how much they rattled the knob. Cosette did not have a key, but Fauchelevent pointed his wand at the door and muttered a spell. It swung open and Cosette rushed inside. And then came abruptly to a halt. Her mother was collapsed on the bed and the room smelled sourly of vomit.

            "Mama?" Cosette asked, cautiously, hovering in the doorway.

            "Come, Cosette," Jean Fauchelevent said, pulling her hurriedly out of the room. He ordered her to wait in the hall and ventured back into the flat, wand raised.

            Fantine lay still on the bed. Her mouth hung open grotesquely and her skin was the colour of chalk.  There was a bottle of pain killers on the floor, resting in a pool of sick. Fauchelevent felt a sinking feeling of panic carving its way into his stomach.  But there was nothing more he could do here, he decided, and so he turned and marched resolutely back into the hallway.

            "Cosette," he said, kneeling in front of the terrified child and speaking gently, "Do you know how your mother says you are an angel?"

            Cosette nodded wordlessly and regarded Jean Fauchelevent with wide sad eyes that carried the profound sorrow of a child who has seen horrible things.

            "Well, that is not true. You are not the angel," he explained, "it is your mother. She is in heaven now, Cosette. Do you understand what I mean?"

            Cosette nodded. Tears spilled soundlessly across her cheeks.

            Jean Fauchelevent pulled her close. "It's all right, Cosette," he told her. "You can stay with me. I'll look after you."

            And he did. He filled out all the proper forms of adoption at the Ministry of Magic. He brought Cosette back to Diagon alley and bought her mourning robes all of black. He took her to live with him in his little cottage in a small wizarding village. Cosette was happy, as much as a child of eleven who had just lost her mother could be.  But then, Cosette was a cheerful child, and not bad at living. She didn't _forget_ about her mother, but she soon learned to think of the loss of her as a dull ache, something that could be bearable. And so the two lived together, until one day in September when Jean Fauchelevent woke her early.

            "Come along," he said, "It's time to catch the train. Today you start your education as a proper witch at Hogwarts."


	2. Encounters Can Lead to New Paths

Notes:

**Hi! I'm MJ, and this is my first chapter for this story! I give first names for Grantaire, Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac in this chapter, but I don’t think they'll be used again in the story (except maybe briefly), so hopefully you won’t be confused later. Enjoy!**

**-MJ**

_Hi again! (Sorry, MJ, I don't shut up. Also, that's not how you do notes. You have to talk a lot and be annoying so I look less obnoxious! Sigh. Ravenclaws.) WANNA HEAR A FUNNY STORY, GUYS!?!? Of course you do. So MJ is French and thus read Les Mis in French. Because she is badass like that. So anyway, she sent me this chapter to look at and this character kept popping up named Épopine and I was like, who the hell is that, and she was all, How do you not know who Épopine is? Basically, we got in an epic battle over what Éponine's name was. And I won. So that is the end of your history lesson. I hope you enjoyed it._

_Oh! Also it's been decided that we shall update every Saturday. The highlight of your week, naturally._

_-Kes_

**Wow, looks like I don't even own _my_ chapter. *Sigh* But yeah, like Kes said, I’m French Canadian, and I had a friend whose name was Épopine, so when I read the book, I didn’t pay much attention to the spelling of the name. Big mistake. **

**Oh, and Kes really can’t speak French. The only thing she can say is my name. The rest is horrible.**

**-MJ**

_How dare you. My French is perfect._

_-Kes_

**Si ton français était si parfait, tu n'aurais pas de difficultés à lire ça. Don't mess with a Ravenclaw.**

**-MJ**

_Yeah! And on that note! Whatever profound thing it may have been! Enjoy!_

_-Kes_

            "R! Come down! You'll be late!”

            "Coming, Mum!"

            Rémi Grantaire, or R, or simply Grantaire, grabbed his extremely heavy and rather dilapidated suitcase and gave his bedroom one last long look: his bed was, as usual, unmade. Blankets and pillows were piled on every surface. Dirty clothes were scattered haphazardly across the floor, making it nearly impossible to walk around. Even on his desk, piles of drawings and crafts teetered on the brink of falling. Three of his four walls were covered with his paintings, and the fourth one was a painting all by itself: with red paint, Grantaire had scrawled “La Révolution de l’Art” in messy capitals. The words were french for the Revolution of Art. For French was the language of the arts, Grantaire thought, and Grantaire was an artist.

            With one last look around his room, Grantaire bounded down the narrow stairs. At the bottom, his mother, Geneviève Grantaire, greeted him with a smile. Her long, wavy brown hair was pulled into a messy bun and she was still wearing the red apron she'd put on to cook earlier that morning. Holding her son’s owl cage in one hand, Grantaire’s mother followed him into the living room and stopped in front of the huge chimney that the little family of two normally used only in winter. But today was special. Today, it was only September and there was a roaring fire going.

            “So, like Sarah told me, you need to grab a handful of the Floo Power and then clearly say, ‘Enjolras’ house,’ okay darling?”

            Grantaire nodded, a bit nervous. He knew that if he didn’t pronounce the place right, he could end up anywhere in the world. But he was reassured by his mum’s blue-eyed, loving gaze,  and even more by her tight hug.

            “I’ll miss you so much, R! You’re going to write to me, okay? And keep me updated! And you will tell me about Enjolras, too, won't you? And come back for Christmas? Will you bring Enjolras, too?”

            “Mum, it’s gonna be fine!" Grantaire said with faux exasperation. "I'm only going to school!"

            “Yes, I know that. But take care, love.”

            "Love you! Bye, Mum!"

            She kissed his cheek and ruffled his chocolate hair as a last goodbye. Grantaire took his place in front of the chimney, grabbed the green powder with one hand, his owl and his suitcase with the other and said, “Enjolras’ house!”

            Green flames enveloped the boy, and he disappeared before his mother’s surprised eyes.

***

            At the Enjolras manor, life was a bit more agitated than usual. Mrs. and Mr. Enjolras’ only child, Julien Enjolras, or Enj, or only Enjolras, was going to Hogwarts for his first year. Sarah Enjolras was sitting on the couch, her tea in hand, and Hadrien Enjolras was enjoying a strong black coffee while reading the paper in the kitchen. The house-elves were everywhere; washing the dirty dishes, cleaning the rooms, doing laundry, mowing the lawn… the soft noises of their work provided a steady stream of background noise.

             Enjolras himself was carrying an elegant black case, emblazoned with the family emblem in gold. It contained all his scholarly material, for it had been enchanted to be much larger on the inside. On his shoulder sat a black cat, its white paws entangled in his golden locks. Josephine would be coming with him for his first year of school; she was a gift from his boyfriend, Grantaire. Boyfriend! The word felt new and delicious in Enjolras' mouth. He and Grantiare had known each other since they were both very young, and had dated for over a year now, but even holding Grantaire's hand still felt like a daring and scandalous act. And now, in just a moment, he would meet Enjolras in the living room, and they would go to a school where they could be together all the time. It was dreadfully exciting.

            His family’s manor, which was but a bit secluded from the village they lived by, was modeled after the  rich French mansions of the Sun King's reign. The outside of the building was made with enormous blocks of limestone that shone in the daylight and which contrasted nicely with the dark slate that composed the roof. On the first floor, two rectangular stained-glass windows stood on either side of the massive ebony front door. On the second floor, accessible by a large marble staircase which lead to the bedrooms, were six windows similar to the ones on the first floor. The black roof, at an angle, revealed six windows as well, but these were of a square shape and had a little fence made with wrought iron on the top. And surrounding the house sprawled a _jardin_ with large fountains and basins, house-elf sculpted bushes, and blooming flowers of every imaginable type.

             The mansion was imposing, just as Enjolras’ parents liked it, but the boy hated all its ostentation. How could they be content to have so much while those around had so little? No one truly needed such luxury; the house was little more than a boast by his parents, a symbol of wealth and power run on the slave labor of house-elves. And the worst of it was knowing that all of it would eventually be his. 

            As he descended the last few steps to the first floor, he heard a loud noise in the living room and his mother’s heels clicking across the floor. Then the fire place gave a soft _whoosh,_ and his mother's voice said, "Oh, hello Grantaire."

            Dropping everything he had, Enjolras ran to his boyfriend, who was stepping out the chimney, brushing soot from his hair awkwardly. He hugged Grantaire closely, and the other boy hugged back; after a week without seeing each other, he had quickly begun to miss his blond headed love.

            Compared to Enjolras, Grantaire seemed well-built and a bit small, but that was only because Enjolras was very skinny and taller than most of the kids of his age. Because Enjolras had such pale skin, R often joked that he was clearly a vampire. But both of them had curly hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Enjolras smelled like coffee and freshly cleaned clothes; Grantaire, like paint and his mother’s cookies.

            A meaningful cough separated them quickly—Sarah was waiting in the hall for the two boys. Enjolras’ father gave his son a small kiss on the forehead, telling him to come back safe, before rushing off to his job at the Ministry. Gripping their suitcases and owl cages, the duo followed the witch outside and began their journey to King's Cross station, platform 9 ¾.

***

            “Okay boys, now here’s what we are going to do: we will run into that wall over here, see? Right between the 9th and 10th platforms. I'll go first, as an example. Then you two. But one at a time, okay?”

            The boys both nodded and observed. Sarah took a little sprint toward the bricked wall and, where she would normally have hit the hard surface and fallen, she simply disappeared under the incredulous eyes of Grantaire and Enjolras.

            Shaking with anxiety, the brown haired boy took a breath and look at the blond one. “I’ll be waiting for you right behind the wall, so don’t miss me!” he told him. Then he turned and, running headlong into the wall, vanished through the gate.

             “I already do,” Enjolras whispered before closing his eyes and following.

            When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in front of a grinning Grantaire who was pointing excitedly at an enormous red train. On the side of the train, the words "The Hogwarts Express" glittered in gold. Finally, they were going to school. 

***

            In one of the compartment of the train, Aimé Courfeyrac (who went either by his last name only or by Courf), Henri Combeferre (who hated his first name and claimed to everyone he was only called Combeferre), and Marius Pontmercy were waiting for departure. Marius, the youngest of the group (if only by a few months, as he often protested) was looking out the window, scouring the mass of wizards in search of one face.

            “I haven’t seen Éponine anywhere! Where is she? We were supposed to meet here ages ago!”

            “Maybe she’s late," suggested Combeferre reasonably.

            “Or maybe she arrived earlier than us and decided to go sit somewhere else. Stop acting like you'll never see her again.”

            “But I haven’t seen her since yesterday!”

            Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchanged a knowing look, and Marius’ face became red with indignation.

            “Hey! One day is a long time! We’re always together and…”

            His words died in his mouth. Outside the window was the most beautiful girl he ever seen, walking hand in hand with an older man. He must be her father, thought Marius. The girl's hair was as blond as the finest sand, her skin as pale as snow, and her hazelnut eyes were almost hidden beneath her long eyelashes. A long white dress lined with lace completed her angelic look.

            “Marius? What’s wrong? Have you seen the ghost of Platform 13?”

            “Courfeyrac, there is not ghost of Platform 13. That doesn't even make sense.” Combeferre sighed.

            “Yes, there is! How would you know?”

            “Because there is no Platform 13.”

            “Another reason why it’s more than plausible that there's a ghost chilling out there!”

            “I don’t even want to argue with you, your arguments never make sense. But seriously, Marius, what’s wrong?”

            Marius simply contented himself with pointing  in the girl's direction. “Her," he said. "Look at her. I'm in love.”

            The two friends’ worried expression changed to ones of shock.

            “Marius, you're eleven! I'm all for a good romance, but don't you think it's a little early to be declaring your undying love?” exclaimed Courfeyrac.

            “This is ridiculous!” added Combeferre, readjusting his glasses on his nose.

            “No, it isn’t! I'm a man at heart! I know what love is!” shouted the boy. “I'm going to find her. Don’t try to stop me.”

            “Marius...!” tried the duo, but it was already too late. Their friend was on the platform, running towards his angel. Oblivious to all else, he didn't even bother to apologize when he bumped into a blond-haired boy as he went.

***

            Enjolras was following Grantaire through crowd, clutching his hand, when suddenly, a freckled boy around his age fell on top of him and then ran away without a word.

             “How rude," thought Enjolras as he scanned the crowd,  searching for his boyfriend. But Grantaire was nowhere to be seen, so with regret, the boy entered the train alone and began to search for a place to sit. At last, he found a compartment with only two people.  One had curly brown hair, with eyes the same colour and a hyperactive personality that was exhausting just to watch. The other one wore glasses and his short chestnut hair was meticulously combed.  He looked very serious. Enjolras thought they'd probably be good friends—Grantaire often accused him of being too serious, himself. 

            “May I come in?” asked Enjolras.

             “Yes, of course, take a seat. My name is Combeferre and the one over there's Courfeyrac," said the bespectacled boy.

            “I am Julien Enjolras, but please, call me Enjolras.”

            “Too long, I’ll call you Enj,” said the boy called Courfeyrac, smiling mischievously. He seemed about to say more, but was promptly distracted the opening of the compartment door. “Oh, look! The trolley!" he cried, instantly distracted.  "My parents told me all about this! Anyone want anything?”

            Combeferre detached his eyes from his book long enough to say, “I’ll take a pumpkin pastry, please.”

            “And I’ll take some licorice wands,” Enjolras added, dropping a few silver sickles into the witch's hand.

            “Pfff, boring. I’ll take three chocolate frogs, a packet of Bertie Bott’s every-flavored beans, and some jelly slugs,” Courfeyrac said confidently.

            “How did you get that money?” asked Combeferre, slightly confused.

            “I de-gnomed the gardens of my neighbour all summer, so now I have my own money!” the boy explained happily. “It was horrid, but now I can buy candy so everything is better!”

            Combeferre rolled his eyes and went back to his book.  

***

            Grantaire felt Enjolras’ hand slip from his own, and when he turned back to look for him, all he could see was a massive crush of people. After minutes of searching, he realized he was going to miss the train if he didn’t hurry in right away. And so he did, but not without feeling guilty about leaving his boyfriend behind. Managing to enter the wagon even though there was a sea of parents waving goodbye to their children in front of him, Grantaire opened the first compartment he found. Inside was a girl with dark chestnut hair, sitting all alone. Her hazel eyes glanced up when she heard the sound of the door opening, but quickly dropped again when she saw his face.

            “Hey… um, I’m Grantaire, can I come in?”

            The girl snorted. “Yeah, whatever, Grantaire. Sit.”

            Grantaire considered making a saucy retort (something like "Yes, Captain!" would have done nicely), but bit it back when he noticed how upset the girl seemed.

            She was keeping her head down, studying her feet as though they could answer all the questions of the universe. And her eyes were deeply forlorn; tears were beginning to form at their corners. Grantaire hesitated, then instead of sitting in front of her, plopped down beside her.

            “Hey, uh...you ok?”

            She snapped her head up to shoot him a vicious glare. "I said you could sit here, but not if you're going to ask me all those stupid questions. Understand?"

            Abashed, Grantaire nodded wordlessly and sat rigidly next to her. But Grantaire had a rather bad habit of doing exactly the opposite of what people told him—it was more interesting that way.  So he didn't last long before he tried again: "Are you sure you don't wanna talk about it?" he asked.

            The girl whirled on him. "OH MY GOD! You are so obnoxious. I should never have let you sit here!"

            Grantaire winced. "Sorry," he muttered.

            The girl seemed to relent a little. "Okay," she said. "If I tell you, will you shut the hell up and leave me alone?"

            Grantaire nodded vigorously.

            "Fine, then. So I have this friend. And he was gonna meet me here. But I can't find him anywhere and it just kinda sucks, okay?"

            "Ah," Grantaire said, then in an effort to commiserate, "Maybe he's just lost? I seem to have misplaced my boyfriend. It's really very unfortunate, to be honest. I'm still getting over it."

            Éponine let out a sputtering laugh. "You know, you're not actually all that bad… Grantaire. I'm Éponine. Now, tell me about yourself.” 

***

            Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras spent the whole ride sharing stories they had heard about Hogwarts, chasing the chocolate frogs which had escaped from their boxes, and eating the Bertie Bott’s every flavored beans.

            “… and I heard there was this ghost called Peeves and he does all kinds of pranks around, so basically, I totally need to meet this guy and make an alliance because he sounds really cool and I think we could be bros…” Courfeyrac was explaining with a great deal of excitement.

            Suddenly, Combeferre's face turned white and his mouth puckered in disgust. He cut his friend off mid-sentence to announce, “I think I just ate a liver flavored bean.”

            Enjolras immediately rushed over an offered a piece of his licorice wand so that Combeferre could erase the horrendous taste in his mouth. Courfeyrac contented himself with laughing manically at his friend’s pain.

            “Oh this is hilarious! Every single time he tries a Bertie Bott’s every flavored bean, he ends up with the worst taste ever!” Courfeyrac giggled. "That's half the reason I buy them all the time!"

            Poor Combeferre, who was very close to being sick, gave him a murderous look and turned to stare out the window. After a while, he exclaimed, “Look! I can see Hogwarts!”

            And there, in the distance, the high towers of Hogwarts were dressing the dark sky with a dazzling outfit of lights.

 


	3. What Path Thy May Take

"First years! Come this way please! First years!"

                Grantaire and Eponine fought their way through the crowd (it was difficult with all the older children bustling about) and hurried to catch up to the voice.

                "Ah! Eponine!" someone shouted.

                Eponine stopped short, causing a sixth year to crash into her with an indignant "Hey! Watch where you're going you useless firsty."

                "Fuck you," She told him carelessly, her eyes searching the crowd.

                Suddenly a wild haired Courfeyrac burst triumphantly through the crowd, followed closely by an exasperated looking Combeferre.  "Eponine!" Courf cried, bouncing excitedly, "Hullo! I'm so glad we found you! Marius was freaking out! He was all ' _oooooooooh wheeeeeeeeeeereeeeeeeeee could my true love beeeeeeee!? Every moment without her is aaaaaagony_ ' and we were all, Marius you saw her like, yesterday, but he was all 'Every moment _is agony Courf. Every. Single. One._ "

                "Did he really do all that arm flailing to?" Grantaire asked, with interest.

                "Oh Hullo!" Courfeyrac cried, turning to Grantaire with an air of extreme pleasure. He seemed _desperately_ excited to meet someone new. It was really rather endearing in an odd sort of way.  "Yes. He did the arm flailing. Marius has a rare condition called being a speckly git who is unable to act sane around girls."

                Eponine rolled her eyes and sighed. "Ignore him R. This is Courf and he's an idiot. We try not to talk to him."

                "Hey!" Courfeyrac cried indignantly. "You _adore_ me!" He draped his arm around Eponine and clung to her, then raised his voice into a high falsetto and cried, " _Oh Courfeyrac! Courfeyrac ravish me for I love only you!"_

                Eponine's glare broke and she laughed a little in spite of herself.  "Shut up you idiot," she commanded, shrugging Courfeyrac's arm of off her and grinning. "Where is Marius anyways. Did you throw him off the train of something?"

                "Hmm. Should have thought of that," Courfeyrac said, sounding genuinely disappointed by this lost opportunity.

                "Regrettably, We did not have time to defenestrate our darling friend," Combeferre said, evidently deciding that Courfeyrac's shenanigans had gone on long enough and it was time he stepped in.  "Marius spotted the love of his life on the train platform and ran off to find him." His tone made it very clear just what he thought of Marius's new found love, and Grantaire bit back a giggle.

                Eponine however, did not seem to find the conversation nearly so amusing. "He did _what?"_ she snapped.

                "Uh... found true love?" Courfeyrac repeated, looking a little confused.

                "That fucking idiot!" Eponine muttered and then she lapsed into a stony silence.

                Grantaire started to say something to her, to ask her why she was so upset, but then a third head poked its way through the crowd and he became instantly distracted.

                "Enjolras!" he cried, rushing to him and crushing him close. "Where'd you go? I turned around and you were gone!"

                Enjolras grinned. " Some skinny speckled kid crashed into me," he explained. "and then I lost you in the crowd. "

                "Did this kid happen to look kinda like a chipmunk?" Courfeyrac butt in conversationally, grinning deviously.

                Eponine frowned at him. "He doesn't look like a chipmunk Courf!" she protested.

                Courfeyrac dismissed her with a roll of his eyes. "He totally looks like a chipmunk Ponine. Don't even." Then, turning expectantly to Enjolras he said, "Well? Did he?"

                "Uh I dunno? I guess?"

                "Ah ha!" Courfeyrac cried, triumphant, "Defiantly Marius. Such a chipmunk!"

                Eponine hit him.

                "Oi! You lot! First years! Get on a boat! We don't want to be late!"

                "Don't you think we should wait for our good friend, the chipmunk?" Courfeyrac worried.

                "No," Eponine said flatly. "He'll be fine. He's sorta intelligent sometimes."

                " _Boats,_ first years," the voice ordered again, sounding significantly more irritated, " _Now!_ "

                "Ok ok! Don't give yourself an ulcer!" Courfeyrac called cheerfully, "Here guys. Get in this one."

                "Four to a boat!" the voice snapped.

                Courfeyrac paused awkwardly, with his leg half in the boat. "Uh..."

                Eponine rolled her eyes and practically shoved him into the boat where he landed with a highly undignified squeal."It's fine, " she said. "You guys go on I'll stay."

                "I can stay with you if you want," Combeferre offered.

                "Get in the god damn boat Ferre," Eponine snapped, and Combeferre shrugged and complied.  

                As Eponine watched their boat sail off, she thought she could hear Courfeyrac say, "Is it just me? Or does she seem a little extra touchy today."

***

                The first years were ushered into a wide hallway by the same man who had had such a fervent desire for them to board the boats.

                "First years this way!" he called authoritatively, and then to Courfeyrac, "Oi! Get in line! I'm not above giving a student detention on their first day!"

                "Charming fellow isn't he?" Courfeyrac whispered.

                "No talking!" the man called, glaring at them.

                Courfeyrac shrugged and went quiet, but not before blowing the man a kiss.

                He in turn, pretended to ignore Courfeyrac, but his glower intensified. Yet he moved away from their little group and lead the children out into the hall.

                Grantaire stopped short and gasped. The room had a way of fitting into its enormity in a regal sort of way that made Grantaire suspect there was a great deal of magic involved, because surely a room this grandiose could not seem this... _welcoming_. Also, the ceiling was decorated with an ever changing array of clouds, so that implied rather a lot of magic as well, but that was beside the point.

                Four tables occupied a majority of the space, and each of these tables was crowded with students, many of whom were craning their necks for a first look at the group of eleven year olds clustered together, clustered together in the entry way, their mouths all agape. They were chattering excitedly amongst themselves, and many were shouting cheery greetings to familiar first years.

                "Alright children. Settle down please. We have a busy night ahead of us!" A great hush fell instantly over the hall and all eyes turned towards an elegant podium placed on a stage at the front of the hall. The man who had stepped up to the podium and called the hall to order was thin, frail looking, and impossibly old.

                "Right then!" he started brightly, "Welcome to Hogwarts my children. I am Headmaster Myriel. As you know, Hogwarts is a safe place for all young witches and wizards. I trust that you shall all make great friends here, excel in your classes and proceed to benefit the wizarding community. Each of you has the power within you to do great things and be honest and noble people, and I am certain that this is what you shall all become, each and every one of you. And on that note, let us welcome our new students and have them began their sorting. "

                The students applauded politely. Grantaire got the feeling they had heard speeches nearly identical to that one every year they had ever been at Hogwarts.

                "Professor Javert shall call the students forth to be sorted,"  the headmaster explained.

                It was at this point that a rather inconspicuous, and hither to relatively unnoticed, hat burst into some sort of strange rhyming song, which Grantaire struggled desperately to follow. As far as he could gather, Gryffindor was the house for the brave, Slytherin for the ambitious, Ravenclaw for the intelligent and Hufflepuff for the nice. Grantaire was not entirely sure why the school felt the best way to express this was through the poor poetry of a singing hat, but the students seemed to find it amusing, as it was greeted with enthusiastic applause and a few whoops.

                "Are we really about to be sorted by a sentient hat?" Combeferre whispered.

                Courfeyrac grinned. "What? You don't approve of the sentient hat?"

                "I just thinks it's kind of... I dunno, juvenile." Combeferre explained, gesturing helplessly.

                Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "You are such a pretentious nerd," he replied.

                "Abeth, Flynn," called the stern professor who  had shepherded the children into the great hall with such zeal. The warm atmosphere of the hall seemed to have done nothing to dissipate his scowl, for he was glaring vengefully at the parchment he held clasped in his hand.

                Flynn was led to a short stool, and the tattered singing hat was placed upon his head.

                "Gryffindor!" shouted the hat, causing Flynn to fall of the stool in surprise. He rushed hurriedly to the middle table, under the enthusiast cheers of the Gryffindor table and numerous giggles from everybody else.

                "Alberts, Elisa," Professor Javert called impatiently.

                "Hufflepuff!" the hat proclaimed, and Elisa scurried to her table, looking faintly baffled.

                Professor Javert continued to angrily march his way through the B's and into the C's .

                "Combeferre, Henri," he called at last and Combeferre, wincing slightly at the thought that everyone in the school would now know his first name, hurried forward.

                The instant the ancient hat hit his head, Combeferre was bombarded with its cheery rambling. "Ah, interesting," it started, "You're certainly very brave-."

                But it was interrupted by Combeferre. "Why do you use a hat?" he asked curiously. "It seems remarkably time consuming. Couldn't you just have all the first years fill out a survey instead, and do some sort of magical aptitude test? "

                The sorting hat gave an amused huff of laughter. "My, aren't you a clever one, " it said, almost fondly,  "But how do you propose we go about making sure the children tell the truth. Many families put a lot of pressure on children to end up in the correct house you know."

                "Well could you maybe," Combeferre paused, pondering it out, "Could you maybe, infuse  a special mixture of ink and vertaserum and have them write using that?" he suggested.

                "Goodness!" the hat cooed delightedly, and then aloud it called "Ravenclaw!"

                Combeferre got to his feet and went to the cheering table. When the girl he had sat down next to only looked up from her book for the two seconds it took to breath a polite hello, he smiled. He was certain he was going to fit in here perfectly.

                "Courfeyrac, Aimé," Javert called, and Combeferre turned his attention to the stage.

                "Gryffindor!" the hat boomed, after only a moment of debate. Courfeyrac grinned and bounced happily to the Gryffindor table, administering high waves as he went.

                The next few letters of the alphabet pasted in a blur of disinterest. Then, "Enjolras, Julien."

                Enjolras stepped nervously forward.

                "Hmm...," the hat said, deliberating, "Tricky. You've certainly got a strong mind, and a great deal of courage. Loyalty to."

                "Only to my friends," Enjolras put in honestly.

                The hat laughed. "So not a Hufflepuff then? Alright. Oh but what's this. You want to right the wrongs of the world don't you?"

                "Yes!" Enjolras began eagerly, "You see-"

                But the hat did not seem interested in his conversation. "SLYTHERIN!" it called, and Enjolras halted his speech and went to join his table.

                Then were the F's. A pretty girl with flaxen blonde hair that curled daintily down her back: Fauchelevent, Cosette, was sorted into Gryffindor, along with a lanky Asian boy.

                Enjolras perked up at the G's. A Garciaz, Samantha was sent off to Ravenclaw.  A thin girl with a poofy afro caused a great of trouble for Professor Javert as he tried to balance the hat on her hair. At last she grabbed the hat and jammed it onto her head herself, sighing disdainfully at her Professor's incompetents. "Slytherin!" the hat announced and the girl slid of the stool and skipped towards her table, her hair bouncing wildly.

                At last Grantaire was summoned to the stool. The hat deliberated for quite some time and then at last it gave a triumphant, "Gryffindor!" Grantaire's face split into a massive grin, and then saw the crushed expression on Enjolras's face, and it immediately crumpled. He slumped dejectedly to the Gryffindor table, and sat down next to Courfeyrac, who immediately began to engage him in enthusiast conversation, completely disregarding the sorting, and Professor Javert's subsequent glare.

                The sorting fell into a mind-numbing pattern. Javert read a name, the child shuffled sheepishly to the stool, the hat deliberated and then shouted a house. If you happened to be in that house, you were expected to be really excited and cheer rather excessively. And then the pattern broke.

                "Pontmercy, Marius." Silence, Professor Javert's frown deepened, and he waited a moment before calling again. "Pontmercy, Marius!? Marius Pontmercy please come forward. "

                Grantaire noticed Eponine within the small huddle of first years yet to be sorted, searching the crowd anxiously for her missing friend.

                And then the pond of first years began to part and Marius pushed his way through the crowd calling, "Sorry! So sorry!" Javert shot him a glare that would have brought kings to their knees. Luckily for Marius, he was too preoccupied to notice it.

                "Hufflepuff!" the hat called, almost instantly, and Marius hurried to his table and plopped down with a sigh of relief.

                Grantaire completely ignored the sorting after that, except to tune in briefly so that he could watch Eponine be sent off to Slytherin to join his boyfriend. He sighed and let his head drop to the table.

                "Oh  cheer up R!" Courfeyrac tried, "I'm sure you can sneak into the Slytherin dorm to say hi. Oh!" he was suddenly seized with excitement, "You can have a steaming rival-house romance! Think of it R! Slytherin and Gryffindor! A cursed love!" Grantaire whacked him on the nose with his wand.

***

                At last the sorting was finished and the relieved first years had all taken their seats.

                The headmaster returned to his podium and gave them all an apologetic smile. "For those of you who have heard this before, " he began, "I would like to give you a most profuse apology. Now, for our first years, We have four house leaders. Professor Javert is head of Slytherin, Professor Fauchelevent is head of Gryffindor, Professor MaBeuf is head of Ravenclaw, and Professor Letellier is head of Hufflepuff. They are in charge of awarding or deducting points based on exemplary or," he added with a stern look at his students, "a lack thereof. At the end of the year the house with the most points shall be awarded the house cup. Last year, the winner was Hufflepuff," he paused to allow the Hufflepuff's a moment of cheering, "As always, may the most worthy house win .  Please be warned that students are not permitted in the Forbidden forest. ("Wow! Shocking!" whispered from Courfeyrac.) or the right corridor on the seventh floor, as there was an unfortunate explosion in the classroom nearby, and anyone who ventures into said area will be seized with uncontrollable fits of laughter, which require medical attention to remidy.  Thank you for your time. Now I would like you all to please enjoy this excellent feast." He clapped his hand once and instantly, all four tables were sagging with food.

                Grantaire reached happily for all manner of things and even Courfeyrac paused in his babbling long enough to pile a plate high.

                At the Hufflepuff table, Marius was trying to explain his incredible lateness to an amused boy with a shaved head, who only laughed and said not to worry about it. He had terrible luck as well.

                Enjolras and Eponine were picking at their food in sullen silence, and at the Ravenclaw table, Combeferre had somehow managed to make a friend.

                "I do wish they wouldn't touch all the food like that before taking some," a small raven hair boy muttered, watching his classmates devour a bowl of rolls. "It's so unsanitary."

                Combeferre over heard and gave him a comforting smile. "Here," he said, "There's a spell for cleaning things like that." and, pointing his wand at the bread he cried, "Scurgify!"

                "Thanks!" Joly said, surprised, then he added, "I'm Joly. Henri right?"

                "Combeferre," he corrected quickly.

                "The hat took a long time sorting you, " Joly remarked. "Were you one of the ones that could have been in a lot of different things?"

                "Everyone is a lot of different things," Combeferre pointed out gently, "But no. I think it was probably because I was having a debate with it."

                Great peals of laughter burst sporadically from Joly's lips. "You're certainly something," he said between guffaws. "Debating....the....sorting hat! Oh my god!"

                Combeferre watched him with suppressed amusement. "I wasn't so much attempting to debate it as I was merely pointing out a flaw  I had found in its system that I thought perhaps could be fixed easily," he explained seriously.

                Joly's fingers plucked at the roll on his plate almost absently, tearing it into minuscule pieces and letting them pile up around his plate, as he listened to Combeferre's explanation.

                "That's quite clever," he acknowledged, "but I think you failed to pay regard to an important aspect of the sorting. "

                "What's that then?"

                "I think the students and teachers enjoy being able to instantly put a face to the child their house is in," Joly told him, "Makes everything much more personal and all."

                "Hmm. You might be right there," Combeferre acknowledged, and then noticing Joly's ravaged roll he added, "Say aren't you going to eat that?"

                Joly jerked his fingers away from the plate abruptly and regarded the damage with a melancholy sigh.  "Probably not, " he admitted sadly, "I don't really eat when I'm nervous."

                "Ah,"  Combeferre nodded, "I'm sorry. I don't know a spell for that."

                The other boy's face went very white. "Oh no really!" he stammered, "It's fine. I just...it's just a new place...I'm not use to it."

                Combeferre took pity on him. "Oh no I understand, I'm nervous as well."

                "Really?" Joly asked almost hopefully.

                "Sure," Combeferre said, "New school, far away from everything. Anyone would be nervous."

                The lie, he decided, was worth it for the look of relief settled onto Joly's face.

                "First years!" someone called, their voice shrill, dignified and faintly bossy. Combeferre followed the voice to a curvy dark skinned girl with multitudes of tight braids flowing down her back "I'm your head girl, Lucy Pattle. And this is-" she paused and searched the table frantically.Then her eyes landed on the thin dark-haired girl with her nose buried in a book, sitting beside Combeferre, "Oi! Ella! Get up here and do your damn job!"

                Ella jumped and slammed her book closed, "Sorry Lucy!" she called, rushing forward.

                "And this is Ella McCoy," Lucy continued flatly, "Our other head girl."

                "Why do we have two head girls?" someone asked.

                "Extenuating circumstances. Mind your own fucking business," Lucy snapped.

                "I don't think you're really suppose to swear at the first years," Ella put in reasonably.

                "They'll get over it," Lucy replied flippantly.        

                Ella sighed. "First years follow us please, " she said, sounding resigned.

                Combeferre and the other first years rose from their seats and hurried after their head girls.  

 

That Part Where Kes is Sassy and MJ Desperately Does Damage Control:

_The notes are gonna be at the bottom now-a-days because it makes more sense that way I've decided But it could change. I'm a very fickle soul. I'm sorry._

_Hallo again! It is I, the obnoxious one. So obviously the Headmaster is the Bishop who helps our bro Jean Valjean out that one time when he was gonna be arrested for stealing all that stuff._

_Javert and Courfeyrac are not friends because Courfeyrac is annoying as hell. I am Courfeyrac incarnated._

**As for myself, I am more like Jehan, with the flowers, the poetry... Don’t worry, he will have is role in this story… later. Sorry, can’t say much about because, spoilers!**

_Oh my god MJ you're such a tease._

_Marius looks like a chipmunk don't even argue with me on this._

**Why would someone argue on this point??! I mean, you just have to stare at him for three seconds, and you find yourself wondering if you’re watching Les Misérables or The Chipmunks.**

_He does sing better then the chipmunks though you gotta give him that._

_By the way, you have no idea how much thought I put into these sortings, like, you can argue with me on these. I will fight you. I will give you quotes with fucking page numbers. Don't test me. By which of course I mean, if you have any questions as to why I sorted someone the way I did, feel free to let me know, and I will be sure to get back to you on that (because I obviously love talking far more then is good for me.)_

_And yes the Hufflepuff's did win the house cup last year. It needed to happen. Gryffindor does not win every year. I mean, I love my house but we are too rebellious to be earning all the points. And it makes me laugh that Slytherin's always in second. Like, dude the only person who gives you points is Snape. Why are you winning?_

_Yeah, scurgify probably doesn't work like that._

_Also, Ella is trans. She came out summer of sixth year when it had already been decided she was going to head boy,and the teachers didn't want to take that away from her so they were just like screw it. And I am deeply attached to Lucy and Ella so they will probably show up again._

**  
I already love those two characters, don’t you??? (you better say yes, just so you have a chance to live…)**

_Mj ships them more then ExR. Please forgive her death threats._

 


	4. The Best Friendships Start With An Explosion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the odd formatting. I don't know whats up with that but I can't fix it. I've spent literally about half an hour trying and I'm really just not dedicated.

After a great deal of bickering between the two head girls, and an awfully long walk, the first year Ravenclaws had a general knowledge of the location of their classes, starting the next morning.

At last they halted before a massive knob-less door, only accessible by an interminable spiral staircase twisting up the left tower. The door's wood was dark, almost black and it was decorated with a bronzed knocker shaped like a bird, whose eyes seemed to survey the students as they clustered around it.

Lucy spun on her heal to regard her followers critically. “Okay, now that the Sorting Hat determined you were clever enough to make it in the Ravenclaw, you need to understand some pretty basic stuff about this dorm," she began curtly, "If you don’t understand the following information, you’re stupid and I can’t begin to understand why you’re here," she flashed them a bright smile,  "Now then, since you all seem to have functioning eyes, you might have notice that this door can be open neither by  key nor doorknob. This is because such mundane means of opening doors is an insult the illustrious levels of Ravenclaw intelligent. Instead, you have to talk with this idiotic bird," she glowered fiercely at it, causing Ella to giggle.

"The bird asks you a question for entry," she explained, "Lucy is notoriously bad at them."  

"I-," Lucy started indignantly, but Ella cut her off.

 “Actually, that’s pretty interesting," Ella began, "since Ravenclaw is the only house to use this method of security. Gryffindor and Slytherin only use  passwords, which, while less complex, are not nearly so much fun, and Hufflepuff used a special series of knocks. I, personally, prefer a riddle, since it challenges you to think from a new perspective and-”

“Okay, enough fun facts for today, Ella," Lucy interrupted, "Let’s heard what our favorite chicken has to say…” She turned back to survey the knocker with immense distaste, "Oi! Bird brain, rise and shine!"

The bird head swivelled to stare at her, giving her a look of supreme distaste. "Oh you again," it sighed, "Been a year already has it?"

"Yeah yeah I know. Time flies and you are stuck to a door with no wings and can't join in in such ventures. Just give us the bloody question."

The bird looked faintly offended.“My, still rude as always I see. Alright then, here's your question. What goes around the world but stay in a corner?”

The girl frowned and, after moments of turning the riddle over and over in her mind, she muttered something about ‘not being up for this shit’ and turned to the first years, with an embarrassed smile that she quickly tried to cover up.

“So, whose got an answer then?”

Combeferre raised a rather bemused eyebrow at the older girl, and considered the riddle.

“A stamp”, he answered, after a moment. The wooden panel swung opened.

"Clever," Ella cooed, beaming.

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah, the firsty can make his way into the dorm. Now please proceed to do so."

"Lucy be nice!" Ella cried, sounding faintly aghast.

The giggling first years clambered into the common room, followed closely by the two head girls, one of whom was berating the other because "You could have _tried_ to figure that question out!"

Ravenclaw’s Common Room pleased Combeferre immediately. The floor was carpeted a soft midnight blue that squished under bare feet, books shelves covered every wall and stretched all the way to the ceiling, and large windows let in great beams of sunlight, which danced around the common room and illuminated the dust the rose up when students pulled books out. The domed ceiling was painted with multitudes of small silver stars that twinkled faintly.  Chairs and tables were places strategically throughout the spacious hall, leaving plenty of room to study or read. Finally, a giant marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw stood proudly between the separate doorways for girl and boy dorms.

“Okay, here’s where you’re gonna sleep: this door leads to the boys room, and this one for the girls’. Now, best pack your things and head to bed!" Ella told them brightly, "Breakfast is at eight and classes will start at nine. Welcome to Hogwarts!” She finished and then she headed into the girls dorm, followed by an extremely cranky looking Lucy.

***

The new Hufflepuff students meanwhile, were also being show to their dorms.

A freckled Irish boy named Timothy Angus, was now describing, with nauseating cheeriness, how one went about entering the common room. "So this is the Hufflepuff common room!" he practically cheered, "We're super cool, in the we don't have a lame password of something like that. We have-" he paused for dramatic effect and the head girl standing next to him groaned and buried her face in her hands. Timothy ignored her embarrassment and continued to chat away merrily. "We have to knock out a song! The Helga Hufflepuff song!" He demonstrated, knocking enthusiastically on a barrel buried sideways into the wall. The lid swung open, revealing a passage way just large enough for a person to crawl through.

"In you go!" Timothy grinned. "Enjoy Hogwarts gotta run bye!" And then he vanished into the twisting labyrinth of the castle.

                The head girl gave them all a weak smile. "He's not actually that cheery," she promised. "He thinks it's how Hufflepuffs are suppose to act so he puts on a show," she rolled her eyes. "And now he's off to see his girlfriend. Never mind, I'll get you settled in. This way." She turned and disappeared into the narrow mouth of the barrel.

Marius scurried after her as quickly as he could.  

When he finally poked his head out of the tunnel and got his first view of the common room, he could barely contain a contented sigh. The room was comfortably cozy, packed with faded mustard furniture and rosy with the light let in from a large round window. A myriad of plants dangled from the ceiling. It was, perhaps, the most inviting room Marius had ever been in, and he felt instantly that he would be happy here. Even if he didn't find his angel.

***

The Gryffindors meanwhile, were being given the most soporific school tour in the entire history of Hogwarts.  The head boy, Darcy Peers, was providing a monotonous and omnipresent commentary which the young Gryffindors would have found difficult to pay attention to at their best, but sleepy and stuffed with food, it was nearly impossible.

                Courfeyrac attempted countless times to lighten the mood with a joke or two, but every time he opened his mouth, Darcy would shoot him a venomous look, and he would snap it closed again.   

 He busied himself with people gazing instead, until a thin girl with cinnamon coloured hair and eyes like emeralds caught his eye.

"R," he whispered frantically, yanking at his friends sleeve, "Look at that girl."

"Uh, ok?"

"Okay!? Don't you think she's pretty?"

"Well I guess...I mean, objectively speaking... Courf are you trying to set me up! I have a boyfriend!"

                "No!" Courfeyrac defended, "You two are adorable. It would be morally unethical to split you apart. I'm just people viewing. What about him. Don't you think he's hot?"

Grantaire rolled his eyes and then blinked in horror. Darcy Peers was glaring at Courf with a look that could curdle dairy.

“Mr. Courfeyrac, I would strongly suggest you to stop talking immediately.”

“I wouldn't be talking if anything you said was actually interesting.”Courfeyrac replied flippantly.

Beside him, Grantaire groaned and buried his head in his hands, bemoaning the fact that he only seemed to befriend idiots.

Peers, enraged, whipped out his wand and shouted a spell at the unsuspecting first year.

When Courfeyrac tried to mock him about the lack of effect his spell appeared to have had, he found he couldn't. His lips were quite literally sealed. Instantly, the laughter in his eyes was replaced with terror. He clawed desperately at his face, and fought back tears.

 Suddenly, one of the first year, a tall, muscular, short-haired boy, and with a look of determination splattered across his face, marched up to the older boy and punch him squarely in the jaw. Darcy stumbled backwards, reeling, but the first grabbed him by the collar.

“Give him his mouth back. Now.”

    Darcy didn’t waste a second. With a shaking hand, he undid the spell with a twist of his wand. Once it was done, the student dropped him on the floor and walked calmly toward Courfeyrac, who, upon the return of his mouth, had immediately presumed babbling, apparently completely unperturbed.

“My name is Bahorel," the tall boy said. " You okay?”

Courfeyrac launched himself into a hug by way of answer, and Bahorel grinned and patted him on the shoulder good naturedly.

“For now on, I’ll be the replacement for this sorry ass of a head boy. Please, follow me up to the Gryffindor Tower, where we’ll find the dorms.”

"Um... Excuse me?" A tall blonde girl sporting wire rimmed glasses cleared her throat. "I...am actually, the head girl here. Olivia Lewis if you please. Sorry I'm late. Professor Fauchelevent needed to see me.  Darcy," she added as an after though, "Please go to the nurse, you're a bleeding mess. In both senses of the word." She grinned at the first years good naturedly.

The first years liked her instantly.

"Now then!" she continued, addressing Bahorel, "I'm quite certain you would make an _excellent_ head boy and I'll put in a good word for you with the headmaster, but this is rather my responsibility and I would love to complete it. Do you mind?"

Bahoral grinned, pleased by the praise, and waved his arms in an "all yours" gesture.

She smiled, "You're brilliant," she informed him sincerely. "Right then first years! If you will!

The students accepted her leadership without question, and followed her up the stairs. They stopped in front of a painting of a plump woman in a horrendously flamboyant dress, the colour of flamingos. She was attempting to sing some sort of opera, which made the young Gryffindors now clustered around her portrait, cringe.

"Ah hello!" she cried, upon noticing she had an audience. "Password dear."

"Vivacious," Olivia said.

"You are indeed, dear," the fat lady agreed as her portrait swung open.

While Olivia explained the ins and outs of the Gryffindor common room, Grantaire preoccupied himself with examining the space surrounding him. It was a circular room filled with tables and squashy crimson armchairs, and sported a gigantic bulletin board full of posters, pictures, and memo. The walls were covered in an ornate blanket of blood red tapestries, and a massive chimney stood proudly against one wall.

A hand on his shoulder put him back into reality. “Are you coming?” asked Courfeyrac.

Grantaire nodded in agreement and followed his hyperactive (no vivacious, Grantaire corrected himself) friend into their dorm.

***

The visit of Hogwarts went remarkably well for the Slytherin. Their head girl, Dorothy Marissa, was an interesting person, who gave the first years plenty of useful advice and information about the school, the schedule, and anything really. She was opened to question of all kind and she was very polite with everyone. Zach Clarks, the head boy, would drop in the occasional tidbit of information, but he seemed shyer, and perfectly content to let him counterpart run the show.

Enjolras thought though them to be lovely people, but couldn’t manage to pay serious attention to everything they said, as his thoughts were mostly preoccupied with the fact that Grantaire wasn’t in the same house as him. The girl beside him, Éponine if he recalled correctly, seemed to be in the same sort of mood as him. She kept looking down at her feet, gazing into nothingness.

“…and there is the entrance for the Slytherin Dungeon, as known as your Common Room. Now, the password for this next fortnight is, anguem. Please enjoy your seven years at Hogwarts!”  

 The Dungeon wore its name well. Since it was built under the lake, a greenish-blue aura floated in through the windows, giving the room an unearthly feel. This effect was only underlined by  the emerald colored lights infused in the ceiling. The room was furnished with a lot of dark button-tufted leather sofas. Skulls were balanced upon dark wooden cupboards and a notice board where the password was written hung from one wall. Everything was very stiff and formal and reminded Enjolras a little too much of the aristocracy he had come from, but he decided to put that feeling aside for now. He felt too tired after his long day to think about it to much, and followed the other Slytherin boy's to his dorm.

***

After a long night of unpacking, talking, and very little sleep,  the weary first years had all returned to the Great Hall for breakfast, many rubbing their eyes and yawning feircly.

Enjolras always woke up inhumanly early (unless of course, he had been up late studying, which tended to be the case) so Grantaire got to the Great Hall early, that he might have the chance to steal a kiss on the cheek from him while most of the other students were still waking up. They chatted for a bit, then went back to their respective table.

 Grantaire was welcomed by an excited Courfeyrac who was describing to a very sleepy Bahorel just _how_ excited he was for potions class.

 Enjolras, much happier after seeing his boyfriend, sat down quietly at his table, a shadow of a smile still hovering on his lips. He glanced over at Éponine. She was still bearing the same melancholy look they had been sharing the day before.

“Hey, are you okay?” "he asked, concerned.

She scoffed at the question. “Why do you even care? It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

The girl across from him, who had apparently been listening to their conversation, bent over and confided, “I heard her crying last night. She probably misses her home or something.”

Éponine had evidently heard the girl, for she stood up and, gave the unfortunate secret spiller a paralyzing glare.

“You don’t know shit about me, so don’t try to deduce anything. I would prefer hell to my parents’ house.”

Then she stormed out the Great Hall, leaving the girl sitting petrified at the table. Enjolras got up and followed her.

She quit the castle to walked across the school yard, finally stopping on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. The thick vegetation made the sky look far away and cast the whole forest into  frightening darkness. Enjolras snapped a twig and Éponine whirled to face him.

“What the hell are you doing following me?” she demanded.

“I wanted to tell you that that girl shouldn’t have said anything, it was impolite of her. But I know you are Grantaire's friend and I thought maybe… we could be friend? At least I don’t want you to be upset,” he finished in an awkward rush.

Éponine sighed and sat down on the damp grass. She patted the space beside her and  Enjolras obediently plopped down next to her.

“It’s just... that there is a lot happening with me right now," she explained, "and I don’t really wanna talk about it much, it’s just… something annoys me deeply.”

“And you can’t do anything to change that?”

“Not really.”

She looked down again and the two sat together in silence.

“Let go back now. I really don’t want to miss defense against the Dark Arts. And… this doesn’t necessarily make us friends you know," she added, as a warning.

Enjolras tried to hide his smile, because _he_ was fairly certain this _did_ make them friends and he was happy to have one.

 And without another word, the two Slytherin climbed to their feet and made their way back towards Hogwarts.

***

“Welcome, Gryffindors, to your first Potion class! I am Professor Prodit and today, we are going to make our first potion in the teams of two that I shall assigned. The best potion will give you points for your house, so turn your book at page 413 and…go!”

 And that’s how Grantaire ended up working on a potion with Courfeyrac, which, he quickly learned, was rather synonymous with disaster.  

“Let’s see… page 413… here!” exclaimed Courfeyrac, “It’s a fire protection potion!”

“OK, what's first?”

“First, we need to slice the bursting mushrooms with a knife.”

 Grantaire took the mushrooms and started to cut them up, while Courfeyrac studied the instructions.

“Okay, now we need to put them into the cauldron and stir clockwise until the potion becomes blue. That I can do!”

The excited Gryffindor dumped the mushrooms into his cauldron and began to stir. At first, he payed careful attention, but it took a while for the potion to change colour, and Courfeyrac soon became disinterested. His mind began to wander... It was five minutes to late by the time he realised his mistake… The potion had already changed from blue to vivid yellow.

“Courf, you were supposed to watch the damn thing!”

“I’m sorry! Here let’s pretend nothing happen!”

Courfeyrac hid his face into the potion book to protect himself from Grantaire displeased glare, and to hide his cheek red of embarrassment.

"I really don't think it works like that...."Grantaire began, but Courfeyrac interrupted him.

"Sure it does," he argued, "My mum makes potions all the time trust me."

"Alright..."Grantaire agreed, looking not fully convinced.

“So… we need to add the salamander blood. Just half of the bottle, though.”

Grantaire picked up the liquid a tried to remove the cork, but it was too well sealed and he ended up tugging in vain, until the bottle slipped from his fingers and shattered into the cauldron.

The two boys exchanged despairing looks, as their potion became black and dense, and then started boiling, more and more, until it exploded, splashing countless drops of the substance in the face of the two Gryffindor. Courfeyrac coughed a couple of times then shrugged as though nothing had happened and continued his recitations.

“After putting the salamander blood, stir the mixture anti-clockwise until it becomes green.”

He took the half-broken spoon that the explosion almost completely destroyed, and do as he said. Grantaire contented to groan and to massage his temples.

"Um... Courf?" Grantaire tried, "I uh, really think we should give up at this point..."

“Oh come on R! Tt’s not _that_ bad. Look, it’s already changing color! It’s… hum, well it is purple, but it’s better than black!”

“But it’s still pretty far from green,” Grantaire pointed out.

Courfeyrac snorted indignantly and read the next step.

“Crush the Wartcap powder in pestle, then add it to the mixture and stir clockwise until the potion turns red.”

    Grantaire finally chose to be helpful again, and start crushing the Wartcap.

“Here, let’s see what will happen now…”

The crush Wartcap powder made the potion overflow of the cauldron, but the minute they stirred it, the substance, now of a bright pink, lost its color quickly, until it became transparent and completely solid, imprisoning the spoon inside.  

“Uh oh…” said Courfeyrac. He looked around, making sure no one was watching them, then pulled his leg up so that his foot could rest against his cauldron.

"What are you doing....?" Grantaire asked suspiciously.

"I'm. Getting my spoon back," Courfeyrac grunted, yanking as hard as he could.

 There was a tremendous _crack,_ and then Courfeyrac went flying backwards, spoon clutched triumphantly in his hand.  A lavender gas began to seep from the cauldron clogging the air. Soon everyone was coughing, and, unable to breathe they exit spilled from the classroom like rats vacating a sinking ship.

 “I guess the first class is over”, said Courfeyrac to Grantaire, grinning widely.

***

When Éponine and Enjolras first entered their class, they had had no real preconceptions regarding their teacher, but he certainly wouldn't have looked like this. The man before them was approximately in his mid-thirties and wore an eye patch on his left eye, which did little to hide a long, and wicked looking scar. His long, wild hair were pulled into a dark ponytail, all except one white strand that hung in his eyes (or rather, eye). He was pale, vampirevicly so,  and wearing an oversized aviator jacket, and dark clothing which completed the illusion. His smug grin made him look marginally less intimidating, but he was still certainly quite a spectacle.   

“Hello students, my name is Franz Graceland and I’ll be your teacher of defense against the Dark Arts. Now, if you don’t listen carefully during this class, you might end up forever wounded, like me," he pulled up his eye patch and regarded them all with an almost manical grin stealing across his face. Where the eye patch had been, there was nothing but a gaping black hole creased with scar tissue. His students recoiled slightly, and he laughed and let his eye-patch snap back into place.

" I surely hope this won’t happen to you hmm?" he teased, " Anyway, before fighting something, you might want to know what are you up against. That's what this class is for. Now, somebody please tell me what the Dark Arts are. You?”

“It’s a kind of magic that is prohibited sir, since it’s used to harm others.” answered an atractive boy with a slightly pretentious tone.

“Please, don’t call me sir, I’m not that old. But you’re right, nerd, gold star for you.”

The Slytherin gave a disgruntled frown, but the teacher either didn't notice or didn’t care.

“There is a lot of illegal stuff out there, but three spell are renowned for their atrocity.  Together, they are called the Unforgivables, because once you've used one, you are just as doomed as your victim. _Crucio_  inflicts unbearable pain. It has driven many a competent wizard insane.   _Imprerio_ forces people to obey whatever the spell bearer wishes," he grinned at his frozen students, "I could have you kill your own grandmother, or rob Gringott's, or jump off a bridge. And finally, _Adava Kedavra_ : the killing curse. Now, if you ever use one of these, you’ll be shipped straight to Azkaban and, let’s be honest, none of you lot would survive more than three seconds. Now, since there's so much scary stuff out there, naturally, you need some ways to protect yourself. The first one we will learn is called “ _Expeliarmus_ ”. It's a well-known disarming charm and it's pretty handy in duels. It won't actually do anything much against Unforgivables of course, but it's always nice to know. Now, let’s have a demonstration.”

“Um, Professor? Isn’t it a bit too early to be learning new spells?” asked a girl, sounding rather disinterested, but worried all the same.

“That’s exactly this kind of attitude that will get you killed.” declared Graceland. “Now, I need a volunteer to disarm him or her or whatever…”

The students sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, looking rather shaken. Then a tall boy sitting in the front of the class stood up.

                "Excellant!" the teacher grinned, "Just stand here....Good, now.... _Expeliarmus_ ” He shouted and the student's wand was sent flying from his hand. Franz bowed.

                “And that’s that," he declared, "For your homework, I'm asking you to practice this spell. You don't necessarily have to execute it perfectly, but I want to see some effort put in it. Clear? Class dismiss.”

                Even at the end of the class, neither Enjolras nor Éponine, nor any other students knew if he was a really cool teacher, or a serial killer.      

 

That Part Where Kes is Sassy and MJ Desperately Does Damage Control:

**Hey so it’s MJ again! Please, do not mind what Kes says ever, she’s a special person. Anyway, this chapter was super long… which I guess is a good thing? It’s better more than less I think.**

_No. Mind everything I say. I am omnipotent. Cal, next week you're winning the lottery._

**Yeah see, Don't mind. Of course, I never completely reveal everything when I’m writing so Kes and I ended up making the new series “Mouthlin” based on Courf’s missing mouth. It was brilliant and hilarious, and it was 3 am…**

_I had no idea what was going on ok! She was just like, hey Kes, I just took away someone's mouth, and things kinda escalated from there and I ended up making a poorly photo-shopped picture of a mouth-less Merlin, which gave us nightmares._

**I love the defense against the Dark Arts teacher, and I’m pretty sure Courf will too!**

_He's scary. Yes. We like him. (Courf and I have become one now) Although I'm a little concerned, as this was kind of Mad Eyed Moody's teaching method and look how he turned out._

**So yeah, have a great day and go enjoy some butterbeer!**


	5. To Stalk the Golden Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Awkwardly drops by with an update three weeks late*

                Five months into school, and Marius had to catch a single glimpse of his angel. He thought he saw her once, when a flash of golden hair whipping around a corner caught his eye, but when he tried to follow it, it had revealed itself to be nothing more than a tall blonde girl from Gryffindor who wore wire framed glasses and deducted ten points from Hufflepuff because of his skipping class.

                Often, he replayed that first night in his head. If only he had been thinking! He could have know what house she was in, instead of wandering the train, looking for an angel that would probably never resort to such mundane means of transport anyways.

                He had been upset when she hadn't been in Hufflepuff, but then he thought that probably, he would be able to find her at meal times, and every day, for weeks and weeks, he would scan the many tables, looking for a glint of golden hair, but he was always disappointed. In fact, he was beginning to doubt that his angel had ever existed at all, or perhaps she didn't go to this school.

                However, such thoughts were to distressing for Marius to contemplate for long, so he would invariably move on to other things. There was no shortage of distractions at Hogwarts.

                The first years had their first test in potions, their second week in, and that night, when Marius finally arrived back at his dorm (he had trusted Bossuet's sense of direction. He now knew better.) he found the common room laden with food. Apparently, some of the older Hufflepuff's had decided they ought to commemorate the first years initial exam with an impromptu picnic and a few of them had lifted some (some being a subjective word here, as Marius was fairly certain this amount of food could have fed a small country) snacks from the kitchen.

                Marius ended up eating far too much and staying up far too late, which meant that he was woefully unprepared for his Defense Against the Dark Arts test the next day and thus did a spectacularly terrible job.

                Marius skipped the picnics after that, but often the chatter from downstairs kept him up late into the night. He wondered sometimes, somewhat wistfully, if the other dorms ever slept.

                Still, despite the loudness of the dorm room, the lack of his angel, and the occasional angry letter from his grandfather, relaying in great detail and with extremely colourful language just _how much_ of a disappointment his grandchild was for not having gotten into Slytherin, Marius was happy.  Never before had he had so many friends, (the Hufflepuff house was a friendly bunch) and never before had he learned so much. It was extraordinary, the way his mind seemed to sponge up the knowledge, and still thirst for more.

                Yet still, he longed for his angel.

                He wrote his grandfather about it once, for lack of anyone better to talk to (Courfeyrac and Combeferre had long ago grown sick of hearing his woes and Bossuet was more inclined to smile at him blankly and then change the subject) but he had told Marius only that he was happy he was starting his womanly searches so early but that he was in fact, rather young for marriage and perhaps ought to tone it down a little bit. Also, had he mentioned how disappointed he in him for not being in Slytherin? Marius had burned the letter. 

                And then one day he had seen her. He had arrived early to Charms, and seen a flash of golden hair and an unconventionally white dress  (she would get in trouble if Professor Javert saw in her in that thing rather than her school robes), a dress Marius recognized.

                She had just rounded the corner of a corridor farther down the hall, when Marius began to chase after her. And then he crashed into someone and went tumbling to the floor.

                "Marius!"

                He frowned and stood up, brushing himself off. Éponine was clambering to her feet beside him.

                "Hello!" she was saying, her voice radiating uncharacteristic cheeriness.

                "You're not swearing at me for bumping into you." He pointed out.

                "No! Why should I?" she asked, still in that awful, cheering tone, "It was my fault! I should have been looking were I was going!"

                Marius couldn't resist it. He could have caught up to his angel if it hadn't been for her. "Yes," he agreed, coldly, "It was."

                Éponine's smile dropped. "Okay fuck being nice then," she said, "You know very well that isn't true. What's wrong with you?"

                Marius sighed, and glanced anxiously over her shoulder to see if perhaps his angel would come back. "Nothing," he muttered, rather abashed.

                She caught the look though, and her frown deepened. "Were you chasing that girl? Is she your ' _angel'?"_ she spat the word out like it was something foul.

                Marius groaned and nodded. "Well yes," he admitted. 

                Éponine studied him for a moment. He saw something flicker across her face, something foreign and tinged with melancholy, but a different sort of melancholy then the ones he's used to seeing on her face, when's she'd run to his house in the in the past because her father was drunk again and that only made his cruelty worse. His grandfather had liked her, Marius reflected, after all, purebloods were purebloods, no matter how low they had sunk.

                "I can find her," Éponine said then, and Marius forgot about her sadness instantly because this was so much more important. If her voice was reluctant Marius was to dazed to notice it.

                " _Really?"_ he asked, hardly daring to hope.

                She gave him a sardonic smile and rolled her eyes. "Of course," she said, "Who do you think you're talking to?"

                Marius grins at her.

                "But you'll have to give me something," she adds, "I don't work for free."

                Marius nods eagerly, and unthinkingly. Students have began to rush through he corridors now, swimming past them as though they were rocks in a fast moving river.

                "Got to go to class, Marius!" Éponine announced, "Try not to kill anyone else on your way back to class." And then she's gone.

                Charms was an uneventful sort of affair that Marius barely noticed. Occasionally, Bossuet was forced to whisper  answers to him, answers that are invariably wrong _and_ that the teacher noticed him whispering, which got them both in trouble.

                At dinner that night, he made strait for the Slytherin table, where Enjolras and Éponine were huddled in an angry sort of comradery. Éponine was talking to a rather terrified looking but obviously quite determined girl, when Marius walked over.

                Éponine glowered at him and, before he could open his mouth said, "I've been in class all day. I'm not skipping class for stalking." Then she turned back to her conversation and ignored him.

                Marius sighed and retreated to his table where Bossuet was waiting to regal him with cheerful tales of his many disastrous exploits.

                The next day passed much the same, and the next, but the day after that, Éponine stopped him in the hallway on his way to Potions.

                "Found her," she said, her face impassive.

                "Really?!" Marius cried, practically bouncing on his feet.

                Éponine rolled her eyes. "Yes. Chill. Her name's Cosette Fauchelevant and she's a Gryffindor. Apparently her father teaches here and she has meals with him." She scoffed. "It's a marvel she has friends."

                "Anyways," she continued, ignoring Marius' frown, "the password to the Gryffindor common room is 'Anachronism' at the moment. Have fun."

                "Thanks!" Marius called, already rushing off.

                "Hey!" Éponine called, "Wait up a minute. You still owe me."

                Marius halted reluctantly and turned back to face her. "Yes! Right! What do you want? I have money...Or um." He paused, awkward.

                Éponine's eyes gleamed, calculating. "A kiss," she said, "I want a kiss."

                "Oh!" Marius agreed, almost at once. "Who from? I can probably arrange that with anyone but Enjolras..." He drew to a shaky halt when he realized that way Éponine was looking at him, disbelieving.

                "Oh my god," she fumed, "I cannot believe what an _idiot_ you are!" And she stormed off.

                Marius watched her go, a little confused, then he shrugged and hurried off to the Gryffindor tower.

***

                The fat lady raised her eyebrows at him when he arrived but let him in when he gave her the password.

                The room was crowded, (Marius probably should have judged his timing better) and several heads turned to look up as he entered. Then their eyes widened upon seeing someone they didn't recognize.

                "Oi, mate. What you doing in 'ere?" someone asked.

                "Stop that Simon," someone else hissed, "We all know you're northern don't overdo it."

                There was a scuffling sound from the corner where the voices had been and then a tall boy with a wild mess of black hair was pushed forward.  He flashed Marius a huge grin and waved.

                "Right then. Sorry about all that. Who are you then?" he asked, still grinning as though this entire was some grand joked. He and Courfeyrac would probably get on very well, Marius reflected.

                "Uh I'm..." Marius stammered, but he was interrupted by a familiar face flying down the stairs and launching itself at him. 

                "Marius!" Courfeyrac cried happily, "What are you doing here?"

                "Oh you know him?" The black haired boy asked conversationally.

                "Yeah! He's an old friend! Bahorel, Marius. He's a Hufflepuff. I have no idea why he's here."

                "A Hufflepuff breaking into Gryffindor? Good on yourself mate." Marius wondered vacantly if it was possible for Bahorel's grin to get any wider.

                "Uh yes," Marius agreed, frowning in confusing, "Um... Hello?"

                "So what are you doing here?" Courfeyrac asked, bouncing a little, "What sparked this sudden rebellious behavior that I was fairly certain you had absolutely none of."

                "I can be rebellious!" Marius protested weakly.

                Courfeyrac only laughed and slung his arm over Marius' shoulder. "Uh huh. Sure you can. No really?"

                "Well," Marius started timidly, "I was wondering... Do you know a Cosette Fauchelevant?"

                There was a pause and then a dash of blonde pushed its way through the crowd.  "I'm Cosette," she said, regarding him with wide blue eyes. "Who are you?"

                 

Kes Continues to Be Obnoxious:

_I'M SO SORRY MY DARLING TWO FOLLOWERS I WAS AT CAMP WITH MY BEST FRIEND SO I HAD NO TIME TO WRITE!_

**Yup it does feels like it been a long time since we updated anything... (and it's not my fault for once in my life!!!) But, we'll try sticking to our original update plan (every Saturday a new chapter) but maybe it will take me more time to write the next one since Saturday is coming fast... Anyway, you'll get a new chapter ASAP!**

_MJ is a better person then me... Remember that kids._

_Ok, the only way Marius could have ever learned both German and English in the space of a year is if he had a photographic memory. This is a fact._

**Ugggh I wish I had a photographic memory. Life would be so much easier and my grades would be better**

_I know right!_

_-Kes_

               


	6. Touched by an Angel

  
                “Cosette…” he murmured the name, too sweet and too beautiful to be spoken by common mortals. “My name is Marius Pontmercy.”

                “And what business do you have with me, Marius?” she demanded.

                His cheek flushed of a bright scarlet and he stuttered “I don’t real know what to say, I never thought we would see each other again…”

                “Again? You mean, we met before?”

                All of the students’ eyes were fixed on the young Hufflepuff, who obviously was struggling with this conversation. 

                “Not exactly… I saw you at the platform and since then, I really wanted to know who you are.”

                Bahorel, who had been listening to the entire exchange, helpfully chimed in with, “That’s a little bit creepy dude! And by ‘a little bit’ I mean super weirdo creepy!”

                The tip of Marius’ ears were now as red as his cheeks and he examined the floor as though trying to determine the best way to bury himself in it, and hide from the looks and laughter.

                 Cosette paused, surveying the situation. At last she came to a decision.

                “He’s right Marius, it’s pretty weird that a guy searched me for months…”

                She took and step back, and turned, making as though to escape to her dormitory. Marius launched himself forward and grabbed her wrist gently.

                “Please!” he begged “Let me prove you that I'm not a total creep! We could… uh, meet after classes? I’ll be near the lake if you'd like to come. I understand if you don’t…”

                Marius didn't wait for an answer. He determined that he had embarrassed himself enough already and so turned, and  practically ran to his dorm, where Bossuet was waiting for him.

                “Marius, where were you!  I’ve been waiting! You were supposed to help me with this history paper before lunch!”

                “Well, we can start now, unless the seventh years decide to throw another party…” He sighed wearily and joined his friend in digging through multiple piles of documents and books, but his mind was elsewhere, thinking of his beautiful, blonde angel. Thinking of Cosette. 

***

                Their work was done early enough that they still had the time to eat a little before their class started, which was as dull and uneventful as usual, except for the fact that Bossuet caught a book on fire three times in a row, blew up a window, and was attacked by a vicious plant that had escaped from the Herbology greenhouse. Marius could pay even less attention than usual. He caught himself wondering constantly if Cosette would come or not. What if she thought he was really was a creep even after he talk to her? What if she was already disgusted with him? What if she talked to Courfeyrac and he told her all sorts of embarrassing things? What if her father decided she couldn’t meet her because he wasn’t good enough? What if she was planning to murder him? Ok that last one was probably a bit far-fetched, but still.  

                “… until tomorrow to complete this assignment. And don’t forget to chose your partner wisely, if you don’t want to fail. This project will count for half of your final grade for this semester. Class dismiss.”

                Bossuet tapped him on the shoulder, startling him out of his revelry. "We're gonna be partners, right?"               

                Marius jumped and gave Bossuet a blank look. "What?"

                Bossuet rolled him eyes.  “Let me guess," he said, sounding rather bemused, "You're still thinking about that girl and you totally didn’t listen at all and now you need my notes and me to be your partner?”

                "Er... Yeah?"

                His friend simply grinned and slid his noted over.             

                “Thank you so much Bossuet! I have a rendezvous so I’ll see you later!”

                “Hey! We need to work on our-“

                “Bye!”

***

                Marius choose a shady tree to sit under while he waited for his angel, but she did not appear. He could feel himself drifting into sleep, forgetting the bitter February chill, feeling his mind drift away...

                At first, the only thing he could see was a warm light filling his vision, but then, a feminine form approached and touched his cheek. 

                “Marius? Are you okay?”

                He cracked an eye open and saw Cosette, enveloped in a thick navy coat, making her azure eyes pop even more than usual.

                 “Cosette… You came! I'm so happy that you came!”

                A small smile ghosted her lips as she brushed a piece of hair off her face.

                “Yeah, I thought it was only fair to give you a chance…”

                Marius looked away sheepishly, remembering painfully their first meeting.

                “Yeah about that… could we start again? Like pretend our first meeting never happen?”

                She giggled a bit a nodded in agreement, "That might be for the best, yeah."

                “Hello, my name is Marius Pontmercy, Hufflepuff. Pleased to meet you!”

                “And my name is Cosette Fauchelevant, Gryffindor. Pleased to meet you too!”

                He grinned and pushed his luck a little further. “Cosette, you seems like a very interesting person and I would really like if we could, someday… go out together?”

                She raised an eyebrow. “You are going a little fast, don’t you think?”

                "Uh... Maybe a little bit. Sorry I just er... really like you. And..." He trailed off awkwardly.

                Cosette started playing nervously with a piece of hair, her glaze locked on the silvery snow covering the ground.

                “I’ve... never dated anyone before… but I guess we could try. But you have to promise me to keep this a secret! I don’t know what would happen if my papa finds out…”

                 “Promise!” cried Marius, his heart pounding with excitement. 

                He offered his hand to her and, fingers intertwined, they walked back to school while delicate snowflakes fell from the misty grey clouds above.

***

                Marius accompanied Cossette all the way back to the Gryffindor dorm. There, he thanked her for making his life brighter and she laughed with her crystalline voice and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, which left him blushing and stammering. When someone came tackling him from behind, he almost didn't notice.

                “Marius! You'll never guess what happened in Transfiguration! It was fantastic!  So, this guy was trying to transfigure his book into a raccoon, right? But the spell went wrong and hit the guy next to him,  so the other guy became part-raccoon, part-man, and part-book! And then, (this is the best part) the teacher was trying to cancel the spell but instead, Grantaire and I --well, mostly me-- but we… Marius? Earth to Marius, please answer! Dude, are you dead or something?”

                Courfeyrac snapped his fingers in his friends face, pulling Marius of his kiss-induced dreamscape.

                “What?”

                “You mean you weren’t listening this whole time?" Courfeyrac demanded, sounding rather indignant. "Marius, what’s wrong with you? Are you sick or something?”

                “Sorry, I’m just a little tired.”

                “Hmm, yeah right. Anyways, let me tell you again this unbelievable and awe-inspiring story for the second time..." Courfeyrac paused in his story to give a loud and somewhat unnecessarily dramatic, sigh.  "So, while Grantaire and I were in transfiguration-“

                “Courf, I think I’ll head back to my dorm, I have this project to do with my friend. You could tell me this story later, okay? Bye!” he said in a rush, fleeing to the Hufflepuff common room.

                “I guess that’s too bad for him”, muttered Courfeyrac, “he’ll never know how this kid ended up flying out the window into an indestructible bubble while wearing a kangaroo costume…" he grinned in fond recollection.  "But I do wonder what's up with him.”

                A smug smile played across his lips. “Hey Grantaire!" he called.  "We have a case to solve! Meeting at my bed, tonight at ten!”

 

**Hello friends we are back! Well, I am since I wrote this chapter. It’s almost 3 am and I just finished writing this (I am so sorry for Kes, since she’s the amazing editor in this team, well she has to deal with my weird writing and my nonsense. You don’t get to see this but she does. She probably laughs about it at night.)**

_I do. I sit there and giggle manically. Although this is my general state so you never know..._

**I have to admit I watched an hour of videos on Youtube (I really wanna thank all of you people who makes to weird as hell videos and those parodies, it’s awesome) but beside that, I have been productive! Yay!**

**I think I shouldn’t have drank this coffee before going to sleep. But anyways everything is funny now. I am hilarious. Gay swimming anime are hilarious. Kes is hilarious. You are hilarious.**

_MJ are you high...?_

**I should really stop talking now. Maybe go to sleep. Nah I’m gonna watch some series, since I accidentally started four series in the same time. Whoops.**

**Anyway, I know it was posted late, but it’s less bad than last time! And it’s kinda my fault since I write it at 3 am on the day we were supposed to post it. And you didn’t want to see the draft. Nope.**

_It actually wasn't that bad. I mean, the beginning was good. Then it gradually dissolved into chaos as it got later and later. It was quite amusing really.  For example...."_ leaving him all flustered staring into the void" _This was Marius' original reaction to Cossette's kiss. HE STARED INTO THE VOID! So dramatic Oh La La! :P_

**But whatever, we’ll try to stick with the schedule, but we kinda sucks so it’s possible that we don’t update right on time.**

_Actually, I anyways, may be more off schedule (Haha. It's funny because I'm was the one that was a week and a half late) because school is starting next week. But I shall certainly make a valiant effort to er...not fail tremendously._

**Have a nice week and go built a barricade or something.**

_I just want you guys to know, that I am uploading this chapter from a god damn aeroplane, because I am hard core as hell._


	7. A Most Noble Venture into Covert Exploration

                Courfeyrac was to enthralled by the idea of a "secret meeting" Grantaire decided. For one thing, as soon as Grantaire had joined him on the scarlet sheeted twin bed, Courfeyrac had handed him a pair of dark sunglasses and demanded that he put them on. Courfeyrac himself, was already wearing his, and in the darkness of the dormitory at night, it looked rather as though his eyes had been swallowed by two black holes. It was remarkably disconcerting and Grantaire was remarkably disconcerted.

                "I'm not wearing those," Grantaire resisted.  "It's already dark out. I won't be able to see."

                Courfeyrac pushed his sunglasses up to glower at Grantaire. "That's not the point," he persisted, his tone patronizing, "The point is that we are on a _super secret spy mission_ and super secret spies wear _sunglasses_. Now put them on." Again, he thrust the sunglasses into Grantaire's hands, and this time Grantaire sighed and gave in.

                The room was cast into an instant fogginess of darkness and splotches. "This is ridiculous," Grantaire muttered.

                Courfeyrac swatted him. "Shush," he ordered, "We have important business."

                "Yeah, you never explained what exactly that important business _was,_ " Grantaire cut in.

                "I was getting to that wasn't I? Now shut up and listen." Courfeyrac fixed him with a haughty stare that Grantaire could only see because he had once more discarded his sunglasses (he was relieved to see that Courfeyrac had apparently given up arguing this point).

                "Yeah ok go on," Grantaire said, folding his hands onto his lap in a great parody of attentiveness.

                "Right then," Courfeyrac cleared his throat importantly, and Grantaire rolled his eyes, "Basically, something is up with Marius."

                Grantaire sat in silence, waiting for him to go on, but Courfeyrac was staring at him attentively, evidently rather baffled as to why Grantaire had not fallen off the bed in shock.  "That's uh....it then?" Grantaire ventured.

                "Well obviously I don't know anymore! That's why we're holding this meeting! So we can craft the best course of action to take in this dark dark time!" Courfeyrac explained passionately.

                "Er...yes. Right. Obviously..."

                "So do you have any ideas as to what we should do?"

                "Uh... No?" Grantaire said. He was still rather confused as to why his friend found this whole affair so incredibly fascinating and felt that everything would probably run more smoothly if he spoke as little as possible.

                Courfeyrac gave a small huff of disappointment. "Well luckily I do." He waited patiently for Grantaire to say something.

                "And what would that be?" Grantaire supplied obediently.

                "We're going to spy on him!" Courfeyrac answered triumphantly.

                Grantaire stared at him.

                "What?" Courfeyrac demanded.

                "You think something is up with Marius so your solution is to _spy_ on him?"

                "Yeah...."

                "I dunno, Courf. Don' t you think that's maybe a little, you know, _extreme?"_

                "No..." Courfeyrac said, looking extremely confused as to how Grantaire could ever have come to such an erroneous conclusion. "It's a great idea! Besides, it's not like we're gonna get caught."

                "Right," Grantaire said, putting as much venom into his tone as he could muster. "We won't get caught because we have _super secret spy sunglasses_."

                "Well, I was gonna to say because Marius is an oblivious idiot," Courfeyrac replied cheerfully, "but that's true too!"

                Grantaire groaned. "I can't believe I'm friends with you."

                "Nonsense," Courfeyrac laughed cheerfully, "I'm brilliant!"

                "Course you are Courf. Listen, I'm exhausted. I'm gonna go to bed now alright?"

                "Sure" Courfeyrac agreed amiably. "'Night R!"

                "Night." Grantaire yawned.

                Grantaire wasn't as nearly as tired as he claimed though, and so he lay awake for almost an hour, thinking about what a ludicrous plan this was, and dreading the morning, for Courfeyrac would surly insist that they put it into action immediatly. Grantiare dreaded to think what would happen if Marius found out they were stalking him. He, Grantaire, had only just started making proper friends, he didn't want to lose them quite so soon.

                He awoke to Courfeyrac shaking him.

                "Come on,  R! You'll miss breakfast, and today's the day we set our plan into action!" He grinned down at Grantaire, a smile that was far to sunny for so early in the morning. "Here, take these! You'll need them. "

                "Courfeyrac," Grantaire mumbled blearily, "I am not wearing your sunglasses."

                " _Fine_ ," Courfeyrac sighed, "You're really lame though."

                "Yeah yeah I know." Grantaire paused and frowned. "Uh Courfeyrac, have you seen my wand?"

                Courfeyrac grinned wickedly and Grantaire felt his heart sink. "If you agree to wear the sunglasses I'll give it back."

                Grantaire hoped his glower burned the skin off his stupid friend's face. "Fine," he sighed, defeated.

                Courfeyrac did not seem to be at all effected by Grantaire's poisonous scowl. He passed the wand and sunglasses to Grantaire cheerfully and then proceeded to practically drag him all the way to the dining hall.

                "Look, there he is," Courfeyrac whispered,  gesturing with remarkably little discretion towards where Marius was sitting dazedly at the Hufflepuff table.

                "Courf subtly!" Grantaire hissed, wincing and hiding behind a flask of pumpkin juice.

                Courfeyrac only laughed. "Don't worry, Taire. It's Marius remember. And he looks even more out of it than usual... Hm." He trailed off, lost in thought. His eyes were, once more, hidden by the thick shades, but Grantaire guessed they would have looked far away, lost in thought.

                Abruptly, Courfeyrac snapped back to attention. "Right then," he said, suddenly all business. "Here's the plan, as soon as he gets up to leave for his first class, we're going to follow him, figure out where his first class is, and then go to ours. After first period ends we'll hurry back to his class and follow him to class to and repeat. If her deviates in any way from the simply class to class rutiene, we will follow him there to. What do you think of the plan?"

                Grantaire thought there was a good deal wrong with the plan, mainly that it seemed a rather overzealous approach to learning why Marius seemed a little more dazed than usual, but he held his tongue.

                The two watched carefully as Marius carefully at his way through a roll and some sausage, and then stood up, gathering his books.

                "Now!" Courfeyrac hissed excitedly.

                "Yes, I can see him moving to you know," Grantaire retorted wryly.

                Either Courfeyrac didn't hear Grantaire's snide remark, or he was choosing to ignore it, because he gave it no acknowledgment as the two gathered up their books and cauldrons and began to snake surreptitiously after their target.

***

                Marius was perhaps the most boring target any spy had had the misfortune of tailing. By lunch, he had had yet to deviate from his normal school routine, and Grantaire and Courfeyrac were exhausted from dashing about the school in an effort to stay on top of him.

                Courfeyrac had shed his sunglasses in disgust and was now sulking next to Grantaire at the Gryffindor table.

                "I thought spying would be more exciting," he complained. "All Marius does is go to _classes_. I mean, what kind of student refuses to skive off even a _single_ lesson."

                "You haven't skived off any lessons either," Grantaire pointed out reasonably.

                Courfeyrac looked horrified. "I've become such a _nerd_!" he cried, collapsing onto the table, the perfect picture of insurmountable woe.

                "Hey, cheer up," Grantaire said, nudging him. "Marius is moving again."

                Large brown eyes peeked out from the dark cavern of Courfeyrac's arms with interest. "But there's still an hour before classes," he said.

                The grin that flitted across Grantaire's face was truly wicked. "Exactly."

***

                "R, you're moving too much. Chill!" Courfeyrac hissed.

`               The two boys had shadowed Marius to a secluded courtyard, where they had taken refuge behind a bunch of thick, tenacious rose bushes. Courfeyrac oddly enough, seemed to be having no trouble at all with the bushes, but Grantaire had had to bite back multiple squeaks every time the thorns caught him.

                "How much longer do we have to do this Courf?" he whispered, "Marius is just sitting there.  I really don't think this is worth it."

                "Shh," Courfeyrac hissed, his eyes still glued on Marius."

                Another minute ticked by as the two watched Marius fidget nervously on one of the benches.

                Then finally there was the tell-tale crunch of boots on fallen leaves.

                "Shh! Someone's coming!" Courfeyrac whispered urgently.

                "I wasn't saying anything," Grantaire muttered, but he stayed silent. At this point he was almost as curios to see who Marius was meeting as Courfeyrac.

                At the sound of footsteps, Marius had looked up as well, his expression radiating all the hope and love of a lost puppy. "Cosette?" he breathed, almost dreamlike.  

                There was a sort snort, and then Éponine stepped into view.

                "'Lo Marius."

                Marius' face crumbled and he went back to fiddling with his hands. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, somewhat more callously then was really warranted.

                Éponine seemed to notice the frigid tones because her face slid into a glower. "I just wanna talk," she said evenly.

                Marius still seemed to be preoccupied with his hands. "I can't talk now," he told her, "I'm waiting for someone."

                "Yes I _know,"_ Éponine huffed impatiently. "You're dearest lady love Cosette. She's running late though, she had to stay back for transfiguration help. She said to tell you."

                Finally, Marius seemed to have heard something that interested him, for he looked up suspiciously. "How do you know Cosette?" he demanded.

                Éponine rolled her eyes "We're _friends_ idiot."

                " _Are_ you?"

                It was strange; Grantaire hadn't thought Éponine's face could go any darker, but where before it had been a thunderstorm, now it was a hurricane.

                " _Yes!"_ she snapped angrily. "I talked to her after you told me to _stalk_ her. _I'm_ the reason she just found you amusing and not a completely creepy stalker. And you-" Éponine was near tears now, but she clenched her teeth and went on, "You have the nerve to suggest that I am MAKING. THIS. UP! How _dare_ you!" And then she dissolved into tears.

                Grantaire decided that he suddenly did not mind if Marius knew he had been following him; Éponine's need was greater here.  He burst forth from the bushes in a cacophony of rustling rose bushes and a loud _ow_ (one of the branches had snapped back and hit Courfeyrac in the face). He took Éponine by her shaking shoulders and ushered her gently from the courtyard.

                "Come on, " he told her, carefully, like she could break at any moment. "Let's get you back to the dorm." Behind him, he could hear Courfeyrac also vacating his bushy hideaway and berating Marius loudly over how to properly deal with a girl " _AND DAMN IT, YOU DON'T MAKE HER HUNT FOR OTHER GIRLS YOU LIKE MARIUS!"_

                Grantaire led Éponine towards the main hallways, but then stopped. It had just occurred to him that he had no idea where the Slytherin common room was. He looked desperately towards Éponine, but she seemed oblivious to Grantaire's distress. He was just summoning up the nerve to ask her if she could pull herself out of her melancholic display long enough to give him some directions, when a small Slytherin girl tapped him on the shoulder.

                "Are you looking for Slytherin then?" she asked.

                Éponine's head snapped up instantly, and she whirled to face the intruder. "You _again!"_ she spat out, glowering fiercely.

                The girl took a subtle step backwards, but did not run away screaming, which is honestly what Grantaire would have done. He was rather impressed.

                "Look," the girl said, smiling sweetly, "I know we didn't really get off on the right foot. I understand if you hate me. I was way off base with the whole family thing. But us girls have to stick together. It's in all of our's best interest after all. So come on, let's get you back home."

                She waved Grantaire away and led a still weeping but now also looking slightly confused, Éponine down a long winding staircase and out of view.

                Grantaire watched them vanish, and then shrugged and hurried back to the dorm room to find Courfeyrac, for, while they hadn't exactly figured out what was making Marius act so oddly, their little adventure had certainly turned up a great deal to talk about.

_I am sorry I am scum. Also school has started. And I have three essays to write. Mostly though, I am just scum. And fuck the every Saturday rule. I DONT CARE ANYMORE!! *sobbing*_

**Yeah, starting school makes everything harder. Want to paint? Nah school. Want to write? Nah school. Want to do something you love? Nah school. The only thing I can do is procrastinate by watching shows and making a contract with my demonic friend. Ugh.**

_MJ, we've talked about this.... I'm the only demon your aloud to make such deals with. ONLY ONE SOUL YOU CAN'T CHOP IT UP LIKE THIS_

**(For the only who wonder about the contract, she mostly commanded me to read this thing and, in exchange, she would have to read a fanfic that made me cry for three hours and a webcomic. I shouldn’t have accepted, because I am 110% sure she is a demon. Oh well.**

_Right sorry. Anyways, yeah that random Slytherin girl is the one Éponine yelled at earlier during the great feast thing. In case you didn't make that connection. I JUST WANTED HER TO HAVE FRIENDS OK!? I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT EPONINE! (I'm sorry don't look at me)_

**ÉPONINE DESERVES HAPPINESS AND LOVE. But Kes apparently has a lot of feelings today. Probably due to school.**

 

 


	8. The Key to the Mystery

            Later that night, Courfeyrac decided to hold the second meeting of ‘The Super Secret Spy Team’ with the same firm insistence on the sunglasses.  This time, Grantaire didn’t take the time to complain about the ridiculousness of the idea: he simply resigned with a dramatic sigh, shoving them onto his face petulantly.

 

            “So," Courfeyrac began. "On our previous mission, we learned plenty, but we still haven’t deduced the whole story yet. You know what this means, right?”

 

            Grantaire was not sure what this meant. He was pretty sure that they had in fact, deduced the whole story. “Um… We spy on Marius even more?”

 

            “Oh Taire, when will you learn… No, we blew our cover already. What we need is to find information by indirect means. But before that, we need to recapitulate everything we know. Maybe then we’ll find some clues.”

 

            Grantaire knew enough to keep his mouth shut at this point, and sure enough, Courfeyrac was quick to continue.

 

            “First, we know that after lunch, Marius goes to see a girl name Cosette, who apparently is in Gryffindor even though she never seems to be there. Also, we know that this girl is friends with Éponine and that Marius is being an A class douchebag.”

 

            They fell into silence, Courfeyrac trying to fathom what this could all mean, and Grantaire trying to fathom how exactly, who could have been roped into a ridiculous plan by such an idiot.

 

            Then Courfeyrac, never one to allow silence for long, said, “If we two together aren’t wise enough to figure this out, we will need the help of the wisest wizard of all, the sharpest mind in the world, the most brilliant human to ever lived!”

 

            Grantaire raised an eyebrow, Courfeyrac seemed not to notice his doubt. He dragged Grantaire from the common room and out into the hallway, even though it was long past curfew.

 

             One not so subtle dash later, they had arrived in front of the Ravenclaw dorm.  

 

            “Huh, what are we doing here?" Grantaire was, for the first time that night, not entirely sure what was going on. "Weren’t we supposed to see the greatest wizard in the universe or something?”

 

            “We are” confirmed his friend, a mischievous smile ghosting across his lips.

 

            Courfeyrac ignored the cawing bird, which had opened its mouth to demand to know how they were so certain the sky was blue, and instead beat out a strange rhythm, like Morse code.  ,The door swung open to reveal Combeferre, clutching a book in one hand and scowling at them.

 

            “Courf, what are doing here? It's way past curfew! Again! You can't keep doing this you'll get caught eventually! And oh my God why the sunglasses? Are you playing spy again? Oh hello Grantaire didn't see you there. Well," he gave a reluctant sigh and  ushered them in, "What can I do for you?"

 

            “We need your help," Courfeyrac began, with all his usual zeal, "We think that Marius is in grave danger.”

 

            “Well, not exactly…”

           

            “Hush R, you are still an apprentice in the art of spying.

 

            Combeferre sighed, adjusted his glasses on his nose, and pointed them towards a few cushy armchairs clustered around a blazing fire.

 

            “So, what is happening with Marius?" Combeferre asked,  "I did notice something was up with him, but I simply thought he was stressing over upcoming exams…”

           

            "Combeferre," Courfeyrac sighed, shaking his head sadly, "No one is worried about exams except you, you massive _nerd_."

 

            Combeferre excepted this statement with the grace of one long accustomed to such insults. "Explain Marius to me," he said instead, and the was all the encouragement Courfeyrac needed to launch into his tale, with the occasional interjection from Grantaire, when he thought the story was getting a little too out of hand. 

 

            When they had finished, Combeferre was silent for a moment, then he said. “I think you shouldn’t interfere with this anymore.”

 

            “What? Why?” exclaimed Courfeyrac.

 

            “Well, Marius is obliviously trying to hide something, even if he does it poorly. We shouldn’t try to find out if he doesn’t want us too.”

 

            “But whatever Marius is doing is hurting Éponine!" Courfeyrac protested. "We have to do something about it! She’s our friend!”

 

            Combeferre sighed sadly. "I don't know that we can."

           

            “What do you mean ‘we can’t’? Is there anything we haven't been able to do together? We could always bring Enjolras along, I’m sure he could help!”

 

            “Courf…  I don't think it's a problem like that. I think Éponine isn’t happy about Marius seeing that Cosette girl.”

 

            “Well, we’ll need to explain that to the douchey chipmunk… C’mon Comb do this for meeeeeeeee!”

 

            Combeferre groaned " _Fine_ ," he agreed, "But if this goes terribly wrong, I had nothing to do it with it."

           

            "Course Ferre!" Courfeyrac grinned, "Come on R! Let's go!" And the two scampered back to their dorm with as much grace as they had when they came.

 

[…]

 

            Next lunch time, Combeferre met the two other boys at the Gryffindor table. They appeared to have roped Enjolras into their plan, for he was slouched against Grantaire, looking rather confused, as Courfeyrac chattered happily to him, presumably explaining all of the spy duos "discoveries."

 

            “Comb!" Courf cried, turning away from Enjolras and looking up excitedly, "Yay! You came!"

 

            “I told I would come, didn’t I?”

 

            He smiled and sat down, as Grantaire caught him up.

 

            “Courfeyrac told Enj everything. Most of it even made sense."

           

            "Hey!" Courfeyrac interjected indignantly. 

 

            "Anyways," Grantaire continued, wisely ignoring Courfeyrac. "We only need a plan now. Courfeyrac is adamant that you be the one to make it."

 

            “Oh! I know," interrupted Courfeyrac again, "We could ask Éponine! She probably knows something!”

 

            “No!” Combeferre snapped suddenly.

 

            Courfeyrac looked up, surprised.

 

            “Why not?”

 

            “Because…" Combeferre fumbled nervously "Do you really think she’s gonna tell us? She’s obliviously hurt and you know that she doesn’t like to talk about how she feels.”

 

            “Yeah, okay." Courfeyrac agreed. "We'll figure out something else then. Uh...”

 

            The four of them stayed quiet, trying to find a solution to their problem. Finally, Grantaire sighed loudly.  “Look, none of us know this Cosette girl personally, right? The first thing we should do is find someone who knows her pretty well.”

 

            “Oh Taire," Courfeyrac gushed,  "you're getting way better at the art of spying! I am so proud of you!”

 

            Courfeyrac grabbed Grantaire in a tight hug, which prompted Grantaire to go wide-eyed and mouth at Enjolras to help him.

 

            “C’mon Courf." Enjolras laughed. "I'm the only one who can hug him, get off.”

 

            Courfeyrac pouted, and let Grantaire go. Just then, someone tapped Enjolras on the shoulder.

           

            "Hello there. Sorry to bother y'all but uh, you're in my seat."

 

            Enjolras looked like he was probably about to go on a long tangent about the ingrained capitalism in society which prompted such entitlement, but Courfeyrac cut him off.

 

            “Hey Bahorel! This is Enjolras, Grantaire’s boyfriend. He's the reason I can't give Grantaire hugs."

 

            "Truly a crime," Bahorel put in.

 

             "I know! And this is Combeferre. He's a massive nerd."

 

            "Ah. Nice to meet you!" Bahorel said cheerily. "So, what are you guys plotting?"

 

            Combeferre shot Courfeyrac a disapproving look. “How do you know we're plotting something?”

 

            "Oh come on," Bahorel said, rolling his eyes, "Y'all look plotty."

 

            “Well anyways," Courfeyrac continued, "Something's up between Marius and Cosette, so we need to find someone close to Cosette, and ask them stuff. Know anyone?"

 

            “Well, there’s me. I know Cosette Fauchelevant.”

 

            “What?!” exclaimed the four boys.

 

            “Yeah, she’s super nice. She’s reminds me of  my younger sister… But what do you need to know?”

 

            “Do you know what’s up between her and Marius?”

 

            Bahorel raised an eyebrow, looking a little impressed by just how dense Courfeyrac was. “Weren’t you there when Marius broke into our dorm?”

 

            “Yeah but… when he said he wasn’t here for me, I got bored and then I saw Peeves and I kinda followed him and that may or may not be related to the incident of the giant wolverine eating popcorn while having an existential crisis in the closet of the Muggle studies classroom…”

 

            Bahorel stared at him for a moment, decided it wasn't even worth it, and continued his story.

 

            “Well, while you were doing… _that_ , Marius asked Cosette out, although it was the most awkward and creepy thing in the world. I think they're together now or something, but I don’t like bothering her with that stuff.”

 

            “That still doesn’t explain why Éponine is acting weird around Marius and why he's being such a jerk to her” pointed out Enjolras.

 

            Combeferre shifted in his chair uncomfortably, avoiding any eye contact.

 

            “Comb, tell me what you know” demanded Courfeyrac. The other boys are turned to look at him as well and he relented.

 

            “Well… I’m not sure, it’s not a fact or anything," Combeferre sniffed to indicate how much he disliked unproved hypothesis. "Actually it’s just me making things up again, probably-“

 

            “Henri Combeferre," ordered Enjolras severely, "tell us what you hypothesis at once.”

 

            “I, uh,  think Éponine may be in love with Marius.”

 

            The other boys gasped; none of them had expected something that big.

 

            “What do you mean, Comb? I mean, the sarcastic, pissed-off by the world Éponine Thénardier in love with joyful little chipmunk Marius? That doesn’t make any sense!”

 

            “I hope you’re right” murmured the boy, rearranging his glasses.

 

            Silence fell over the group, each of them trying to make sense of the new information.

 

            “So, what do we do now?” asked Enjolras, at last.

 

            “We need to have a talk with Marius” declared Courfeyrac, raising from his chair. “But before that, we need super secret nicknames since you all are part of The Super Secret Spy Team now.”

 

             Grantaire groaned loudly. “Courf, you already made me wear those stupid sunglasses during our super secret meeting, could you _please_ not gave us a ridiculous nicknames on top of that?”

 

            “Oh, don’t worry about that.  Everyone else has to wear sunglasses until the end of the mission, well except in class but whatever, and _everyone_ will have super-secret-and-not-ridiculous-at-all nicknames. Here, I’ll start:”

 

            “Combeferre, you will be Hairbrush-”

 

            “You are _not_ giving me this nickname ever again you little-”

 

            “Hairbrush it is! Enjolras you will be-”

 

            “I will be Liberty." Enjolras told him shortly.  "If I have to have a stupid nickname I'm choosing it.”

 

            “I was thinking more Enjol _rad_ but let’s go with Liberty… Bahorel, you will be Oversized Plushy Bear.”

 

            “Awesome!" Bahorel cheered.

 

            “Grantaire, you will be The Uncool spy and I will be Center.

 

            “C’mon Courf, that’s not fair!”

 

            “Very well then, you will be Boyfriend #2. Now, your glasses…”

 

            Courfeyrac waved his wand in the air and five sunglasses suddenly appeared in front of the boys. Bahorel immediately put his on, grinning, while Combeferre and Enjolras glowered at them, and shoved them on reluctantly. Grantaire had finally learned that resistance was useless, and put his on with no protest.

 

            “Okay, so the plan is to kidnap Marius while he's waiting for Cosette under the big shady tree outside the school-”

 

            “Isn’t that a bit cruel?" Interjected Bahorel. "I mean, we have to think of Cosette here to. She'll think Marius showed her up.

 

            “Well that is as cruel as what Marius did to Éponine." Enjolras said bluntly.  "But he's right, we should at least leave a note explaining that Marius had a ‘very urgent problem to take care of’ or something like that.”

 

            “Alright, we’ll leave the note and then we’ll bring Marius to this secret room I discovered some days ago and we will interrogate him to finally understand if he’s a real jerk or just super dense.”

 

            “That works for me” declared Bahorel, and the others nodded their agreement.

 

            “Perfect! In exactly twenty minutes, Marius will have something else to worry about besides Cosette…”

 

            "Courfeyrac," Combeferre sighed, "Please never do that laugh again. Villainy does _not_ suit you."

[…]

 

            As expected, twenty minutes after the meeting of The Super Secret Spy Team, Marius was waiting under the usual tree for Cosette to show up. This time, he had brought a mug full of hot chocolate, since the weather was particularly harsh that day. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining his beautiful blond angel running across the snow when suddenly, two strong arms lifted him from the ground and dragged him away.  The poor boy tried to scream, but the volume of his voice has been lowered by a spell; he could only squeal like a mouse trapped in a cage. His kidnappers blindfolded him, lead him into a room, and tied him to a wooden chair.

 

            “Good job, Oversized Plushy Bear. We can now start the interrogation,” said a voice in front of him

 

            “What are you doing?" Marius squeaked. Someone laughed and muttered something, and suddenly, he found his normal voice again. "I have a important meeting and-”

 

            “It has been postpone," said another voice, sounding much calmer then the first. "Now, please cooperate with the questioning.”

 

            “Thank you Hairbrush." said the first voice.  "Now, Marius, can you tell me exactly what is your relationship with Cosette Fauchelevent?”

 

            “We're dating… Oh god, were you sent by her father? I’m gonna die!”

 

            “Please stop with the whining.” said a grumpy voice somewhere to Marius' left.

 

            “Thanks Boyfriend #2," said the first voice again, "Now Marius, tell me about your relationship with Éponine Thénardier.”

 

            “Éponine? She’s my best friend, nothing else, I swear!”

 

            “Do you think she thinks the same of you?”

 

            “Of course she does! We’ve been friend since childhood, I would have notice if something were different with her!”

 

            “Marius, you need to talk to Éponine about your friendship. You need to clear this thing as soon as possible.” ordered a stern voice, also from his left.

 

            “I agree with Liberty here. You see, we don’t think Éponine feels the same about you.  We _also_ think you're being a real douchebag to her, so do something about it.”

 

            “What? Éponine, really, out of all people? I think you're all nuts…”

 

            Suddenly, Marius felt his chair being jerked dangerously forward. “Listen here, Pontmercy," someone growled, "if you don’t do exactly as we say, I swear even St Mungo’s Hospital won’t be able to fix you. So go talk to Éponine.”

 

            “Okay there, Hairbrush," the first voice said, sounding more amused than concerned, "I I think you traumatized him enough. Oversized Plushy Bear, take him back at location A.”

 

            “Yes, Center!” said a voice behind him. Marius felt the ropes dropping to the floor, but the blindfold remained until he been lead outside again.  

 

            “Okay, little punk, count to thirty and when you’re done, you can take the blindfold off. Do it before, you'll never see again.”

 

            Marius gulped and began to count. The thirty seconds seemed to last a lifetime, but at last they were over. Marius ripped the blindfold off his eyes and dashed to meet his friends, who, strangely enough, were just slipping back into the great hall.

 

            “Guys! You'll never guess what just happen to me! I was kidnapped!”

 

            His friends exchanged glances, each thinking the same thing. They hadn't bothered to disguise their voices after all... Was Marius really so dense?

 

 

**Hello, there! I know it has been a very long time since we updated, but with school starting again, my teachers thought it would be cool giving me tons of work to do so I wouldn’t have any time to write! But, it’s not all school’s fault: I wasn’t really inspired for a while, and when I write, I really want to like the whole thing, like the jokes, the sarcasm, the plot line, the writing… Like, if I don’t like what I’m writing, I shouldn’t post it, because you all deserve the best we can do.**

_Ok so, MJ had actually finished this a long time ago. I am actually just a piece of shit who didn't bother to edit it for like, two months. It's always me guys. Like, literally always._

**So that’s the result, even though it sometimes took long before we update, of all our hard work!**

_If by hard work you mean nagging me to edit your chapter like a proper friend I shall except this claim._

 

 

 

 

                     


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